Insomnia
by mav32
Summary: A killer's game is threatening to push Mac over the edge. The only way to win is to solve the case, but either way, Mac risks losing his sanity...and his life.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This idea has been bugging me since before Don't Wake Me When It's Over. I only just fleshed it out. Thank my sister's house for being such a wonderful muse to me. Please let me know what you think and if I should keep going with it!

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><p>Exhaustion was nothing new to Mac Taylor. His career paths and personal battle with insomnia made that inevitable. He didn't see it as a bad thing. His job often required odd hour shifts that ended up lasting over 12 hours, so being able to work under those conditions was a plus. He always felt that the longer he could stick with a case on consistent basis, the better chance they had of solving it anyways. If that involved a 20 hour work day, then so be it. More than that, he thrived off it. He actually enjoyed it. Being exhausted at the end of the day usually meant that he'd accomplished something. It also made it easier to sleep whenever that moment came.<p>

Despite that, he had his limits. Stella was often the first to point them out to him. He usually listened. He didn't always do what she said, but he listened. He figured he should have learned his lesson already, but he didn't have a reputation for being stubborn for nothing- he just preferred the term dedicated. Stella had a few terms of her own for it which he chose not to repeat. To her credit, she rarely ever pulled out the "I told you so" card. She was too busy making sure Mac hadn't finally found the edge he'd been flirting with for years.

Even with her uncanny ability to read a situation, not even Stella saw this coming. No one did. The case had started routine enough, but somewhere along the way, there had been a switch, and now it was anything but. Mac was quickly reaching a breaking point and not even Stella could pull him back.

That was _his_ goal, after all- this killer- to drag Mac down to his level, make Mac as disillusioned and crazy as _he_ was.

At this point, Mac couldn't say with any certainty that he wasn't.

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><p><em>72 hours earlier…<em>

"What have we got, Flack?" Mac carefully made his way across the beach, stepping over various collections of washed up debris and knowing that despite his best efforts, he'd end up with a sock-full of sand at the end of the day.

Don winced as he felt the tiny pebbles slosh around his own shoes, but continued to lead the head CSI to the body which was hidden up against an outcropping of rocks and surrounded by a mix of dead ocean foliage. "No ID, for starters. Vic is female, somewhere in her late twenties/early thirties." Mac set down his kit as they stopped in front of the body and started to don his gloves. "Looks like a gunshot wound to the head, and possibly one to the lower abdomen."

Mac snapped on the second glove as an ocean breeze whipped at his hair. It was just past noon, but autumn was just getting into full swing, which meant that the weather still had hints of summer in it if you stood in the sunlight, but the wind always carried the threat of a cold winter. Down on the secluded beach, shaded by tall rocky cliffs, it was almost frigid. His suit jacket, while perfect for the temperature in the city, wasn't quite enough here.

He fought back a shiver as the wind finally subsided and stepped closer to the body. The woman was young and beautiful despite the tell-tale hole in her forehead and ghostly white pallor of her skin. Her long brown hair was matted and tangled in seaweed. She wore only a blouse and jeans. Her shoes were nowhere to be found. The blouse, a pale yellow to begin with, was stained a pinkish hue near the hem. Mac lifted the blouse to see another hole, slightly larger than the one of her forehead, just below her navel.

"What do you make of that?" Don asked after letting Mac examine the body for a few minutes in silence.

Mac studied the hole in the shirt, and without looking up said, "Stippling pattern suggests close contact shot." He lifted the woman's forearms. "Defensive wounds." He checked the fingernails. "Looks like blood trace." Mac hesitated as turned over her left hand and found a ring.

"What are you thinking?" Don asked, seeing Mac's expression change as his keen eyes suddenly lost their edge. It wasn't the first time he'd seen it happen.

Don had noticed that certain cases would take Mac off into his own world. Flack could never anticipate which ones- sometimes the most heinous crimes wouldn't even phase Mac, and then a case of domestic abuse would send him over the edge. Often times it depended on Mac's mood…which explained why Flack could never tell which cases to look out for. As close as they were as friends, Flack found it hard to read Mac and never really heard about his personal problems…almost ever. If Mac ever did happen to tell Flack, it was because it was relevant to a case, or Mac was trying to keep him from talking about a completely separate and usually more important personal problem- then there was the one time Flack actually caught Mac drunk on the 11th of September just two weeks ago. Maybe that was it…

After another few seconds, Mac let out a sigh. "A struggle with a gunshot to the abdomen- not the center of the chest which is more common, but below, _and_ an execution style shot to the head… It was deliberate, personal."

"Trying to a send a message?" Don suggested, watching as Mac stepped back from the body and looked down on it with an unreadable expression.

"Maybe, but to who? Her or someone else?" Mac muttered, more to himself than Flack. "Who found the body?" He suddenly asked, his demeanor shifting fully back to that of a hardened detective. Flack knew better than to comment on it.

"Guy looking for his dog. He was hiking along the trail up there with the dog this morning and the animal ran off. So he came down here to look for him and stumbled upon this. We probably never would have found it otherwise. This stretch is hard to get to and not exactly prime real estate in the tanning department." Don swept his hand around at the narrow and craggy beach, blocked on both sides by almost 100 vertical feet of rock. "The guy who found her lives in California, just got here yesterday night, and I'm guessing the vic's been dead longer than that." Don added, knowing what Mac's follow-up question would have been.

Mac nodded in confirmation. "She couldn't have been in the water long if we've still got trace, though. We'll have to get her to Sid." Another icy breeze nipped at Mac's exposed neck. "Sooner than later."

/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Something is off about this."

"You find something on the body, Sid?" Mac asked, eyebrows and interest raised as he pulled on a blue lab coat outside the morgue.

Sid pursed his lips and shook his head. "No, it's just that I could have sworn your shift ended almost 8 hours ago." He said thoughtfully, tilting his head as he fixed Mac with a pointed look.

Mac just smiled as he finished buttoning the coat around him. "Double shift, Sid. Stella and Danny are working on a triple downtown, and Lindsay and Hawkes are off, so I had to fill in."

"For being the boss, you sure fill in a lot." The ME said, leading the way into the morgue. "I thought that's what subordinates were for."

"The body, Sid." Mac said with a smile and glint in his eye. He had a patience for the quirky ME that could only be explained by the fact that Mac didn't mind his off-topic ramblings nearly as much as he let on. He hadn't worked with Sid very long, but the kindly older man had the softest heart of any human being Mac had ever met, despite working with the dead all day. Mac couldn't bring himself to even get upset with him.

"Of course." Sid unsnapped his glasses from around his neck and clicked them back into place on his nose. "Cause of death was the shot to the head. Close range, I'd say no less than 4 feet, but no more than 10. She was shot first, however, just below her navel. Bullet entered at a downward angle and embedded in the iliac fossa of the pelvis. She wouldn't have bled out quickly. The shot to the head probably came soon after. I managed to extract the two bullets. Both 9 mm. Pretty damaged."

Sid held up the glass bottle and rattled the 2 balls of warped metal inside before Mac took it from him and looked them over.

The ME snapped off his glasses again and dropped them so they hung around his neck. "You know, I do believe this is the sixth double shift you've taken in the last few weeks alone." Sid continued as if their conversation had never been interrupted by discussing the dead body between them.

The same lack of inhibition that caused Sid to go to "that creepy place" the CSIs were so familiar with, was the same thing that allowed him to cross lines into personal territory that no one else would dare go with Mac Taylor, and he still got away with it every time. Stella wasn't even that lucky. Again, Mac just couldn't bring himself to get defensive, especially when he knew what a sensitive soul Sid was and the fact that he'd taken notice only emphasized that point. Mac did his best to set Sid at ease while trying not to obviously brush the ME off.

"Hawkes took the swing shift last night and Lindsay just got off from a double yesterday. They both get here in an hour." Mac replied absently, tilted the container to get a better look at the bullets. "Anything else?"

"Isn't your double shift over now as well?"

"About the body." Mac clarified, finally looking away from the bullets and giving Sid a look.

"Ah, yes, indeed." The glasses were back on his face again. "And this may explain the odd placing of the bullet. Your vic was at least 3 months pregnant."

"What?" Mac set the bullets back on the table. His eyebrows drew together and his forehead creased.

"Yes. I've just sent up DNA samples to the lab. There's no sign of sexual assault. I'd say it's a good bet your killer knew about the pregnancy and didn't approve."

"Possibly her husband…Maybe she had an affair…" He speculated aloud. "You have anything that could help us identify her or the shooter?" Mac asked, quickly getting over his shock and instead focusing on the evidence.

"Not yet, but I'm still working on it. Here's the trace from under the fingernails." Sid handed over the envelope. "I can definitely say your vic wasn't dumped into the water or I wouldn't have gotten that. I think it's more likely she was left on the beach and the tide did the rest. I'm putting time of death at 24-36 hours ago."

"At least that gives her time to be in missing persons." Mac sighed. "Thanks." He gathered the evidence and was headed out the door when Sid called him back.

"Mac?"

"Hm?" He turned, thinking Sid had forgotten something.

"You… heading home?" He asked casually.

Mac smiled and nodded, willing to humor his ME. "As soon as Lindsay and Hawkes get here."

Sid's smile showed his relief. "Just curious."

"Sure thing, Sid." Mac smirked.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

After exhausting every last excuse for work he had left, Mac finally conceded that it was time for him to go home. Lindsay and Hawkes were working hard on the vic's clothes and an ID, and any DNA or trace results would take hours to come in. It was already pushing 9 pm. He had no reason to stay. The case was in good hands until he came back.

Stella and Danny were just returning from their scene when he finally packed up his office and slipped on his jacket to leave.

"You heading out?" Stella asked, standing in his doorway and trying not to look impressed.

"Yes." Mac answered simply, giving her a tight smile. "Lindsay and Hawkes are taking over for now. How'd it go at the scene?"

"Ugh." Stella sighed, "Amateur bodega robbery gone bad. Kid freaked out when the owner fought back and started shooting. We got prints, bullets, casings, security footage, _and_ the kid's student ID which he dropped."

"Brilliant." Mac said wryly.

"Yeah, needless to say he won't be getting any degrees for that heist. Scagnetti is picking him up now. How is your case going?"

Mac let out a short breath. "Uh, not a lot to go on right now, but I'd really like to talk to the Jane Doe's husband- whoever that is. She was pregnant… looks like someone aimed for the baby before they shot her in the head."

Stella frowned. She would never understand the reason people could so recklessly throw the life of another human being away- especially the life of a supposed loved one. Cases with children seemed to hit Stella especially hard, but she could tell by looking at him, that this had struck a chord with Mac as well. She knew he'd been struggling this last month. It was always a hard time for him- at least for the last few years it had been. She'd had to keep an especially close eye on him, and he had thankfully been more open to letting her.

Stella stepped further into his office. "Sleeping any better?" She asked, eyebrow raised curiously, but her eyes demanded the truth. Mac wasn't stupid enough to deny it.

He quickly stifled his yawn and smiled sheepishly. "Yes, I've just been here all day." That day having started at around 5am.

"Well, get home already and get to sleep." Stella grinned, ushering him out of his office and toward the elevators.

"I'm going, I'm going…" Mac smirked. "See you later."

As soon as the elevator doors shut, Mac slumped against the wall. This particular car was empty except for him, which he was grateful for. He could feel a headache coming on and for the first time in a while was looking forward to sleeping in his bed. He hadn't been lying to Stella when he said he'd been sleeping better, but after nearly a month of averaging only 3 or 4 hours of sleep a night, his body had a lot of catching up to do. So long as this case didn't hit any unexpected turns, he was counting on making up as much as he could tonight.

Mac managed to keep himself awake for the drive home and actually forced himself to change into sweats and a t-shirt before falling into his bed. Just before he closed his eyes, his phone started buzzing on the nightstand. _Please, not right now…_ It of course would make perfect sense that the one time Mac wanted to sleep, his job would pull him away from it… He didn't even lift his head as he dragged the phone off the table and held it in front of his eyes. It was a text… The bright screen and his blurry vision made for hard reading, but after a lot of blinking and tilting of the screen, he managed it.

_Rest up while you can…_

Mac blinked a few more times, as if that would make the message any clearer. It didn't. He was still just as confused. The number was blocked. '_Wrong number, I guess…'_ He thought to himself tiredly as the phone slipped from his hand and his eyes slid shut.

It was still dark when Mac was pulled from the depths of some already forgotten dream by the vibrating phone still lying under his hand. It didn't stop this time. Someone was calling him. He tried to read the screen, but gave up and simply answered. "Taylor." He mumbled, allowing his eyes to shut again.

"Mac, it's Flack. Look, I'm sorry to wake you-…"

"What is it?" Mac asked, sleep already starting fade as he heard the urgency in Flack's voice. The LED clock on his nightstand read 3:15.

"We got another body."

Mac waited for him to go on. He wasn't on call, so there was another reason Flack was telling him this.

"Female. Shot to the head and lower abdomen… Mac, it looks like we've got a serial."

He was wide awake now, already sliding from his bed as Flack gave him directions to the scene. He had just pulled on a sweatshirt when his phone again lit up and started shaking. With a sigh, he picked it up and realized with a start that it was another text. He'd almost forgotten about the last one. He opened the message, and for one painful moment, Mac's heart stopped.

_Game on, Detective._

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><p>AN: There's the first chapter! I hope it got you interested enough. Let me know if you want to see more!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you all so so much for reviewing! This is, admittedly, not a very exciting chapter, and it has a lot of case information, but the case is important! So pay attention anyways. The next chapter will more than make up for it...

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><p>Don watched as Mac climbed from the Avalanche, dressed in dark jeans and a zip up jacket, his hair slightly disheveled. He'd clearly woken up and come straight there. The force with which Mac slammed the car door and the pace at which he strode toward Don told him the detective was not in a good mood- and not because he'd been pulled out of bed. Serial killers tended to do that to him. Flack stood up and stepped around the body to meet him. "Bartender found her after closing up. Came out back to throw some trash away and tripped over her instead."<p>

Mac surveyed the body, splayed out between the back door of the bar and the dumpster. Lindsay was already processing, looking somewhat sick as she did so. Don couldn't blame her. It had been bad enough when he thought the first killing was done by a vicious spouse. This made less sense.

"No witnesses. No one heard anything." Don continued as Mac shone his flashlight around the perimeter. "From the lack of blood here, I'd say it's another dump job."

"So why dump the first body in a spot it's not likely to be found and dump the second one where you know it's going to be discovered right away?" Mac asked, greeting Lindsay with a nod as he stepped up next to her to get a closer look.

"Getting more confident?" Don suggested, though something felt off about it. "It's a big jump from hiding the body to displaying it for all to see, though."

"No, you're right." Mac sighed. "It's a leap, but it's all we have to go on." He crouched down and Lindsay stepped back to give him some room to examine the body himself. "No defensive wounds this time…" He muttered to himself. "Perfecting his game?"

"Time of death was recent, rigor hasn't fully set in yet." Lindsay reported. "You think it's the same guy?"

"Similar bullet placement, young female… It's not a lot, but it's looking like it." Mac sighed, and Don could tell there was something else he wasn't saying. "She got a ring?"

"Nope." Lindsay shook her head. "No ID either."

"You and Hawkes find anything on the last vic?" Mac asked as he stood up, snapping off his gloves.

She frowned and shook her head. "The DNA under her nails was degraded, but we got enough to figure out it was from her own blood. She may not have been in the water long, but it still washed out any other trace we might have gotten. Hawkes is still looking through missing persons."

"You sure this is the same guy, Mac?" Don asked doubtfully. "Something's off here."

Mac blew out a breath and nodded. "I know… But the fact is the media didn't have a hold of this until a few hours ago and we didn't release enough information for a copycat killing. A fake would have had to plan this in a couple hours…that fits even less. We don't know the rules yet. Right now we have to assume this guy made a major change in his game for a reason."

Don looked up at that. It was the third time Mac had described this thing as a game. The head of the crime lab had a habit of making intellectual jumps without walking everyone else through his thought process, so it was possible he already had a theory about their perp, but it was unlikely this early on, and just plain odd for Mac not to share it. "Mac," Don pulled him aside, throwing his own rule of not questioning Mac out the window. "Do you know something?"

Mac raised an eyebrow innocently. "What are you talking about?"

"I can't help but think you're not telling me something here." Don shrugged.

"If I knew anything about the case, I would tell you, Flack. You know that." Mac assured him calmly.

Did that mean it wasn't case related? Don sighed. That wasn't it. Mac's behavior the last few weeks had been distracted because he was going through a hard time. Don knew what that looked like. This was different. "Sure." He nodded after a second and watched closely as Mac walked away to finish processing the crime scene.

There was definitely something else…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Adam's head snapped up from where it had been resting on his arms as something smacked onto the table next to him. "I wasn't asleep." He slurred immediately, blinking his bleary eyes as he searched his surroundings. Mac came into focus, looming over him, and Adam jumped again.

"Find me something on whoever sent the last two texts to that phone." Mac said, ignoring the fact that he'd found Adam sleeping on the job. It was 6:30 in the morning, meaning the tech's shift had only started 30 minutes ago, and already he was struggling. Adam never had been a morning person. He'd bribed many a lab tech for later shifts, but sadly had not found a soul willing to switch with him today. It was his fault for staying up until 2 am playing Call of Duty with his cousin in California.

Adam quickly dragged a hand over his face and then picked up the phone. "Sure thing, Boss. Is this for your case? I thought they didn't find any personal items on the vics?"

Mac stared at him silently for a second before he spoke. "They didn't. As of right now, this isn't related to the case."

"Right now?" Adam repeated curiously, turning the phone over in his hands before his fingers raced across the keys, quickly bringing up the texts in question. He read them and confusion quickly spread over his face. "Is this yours?"

Mac didn't say anything. Adam looked up at him and easily read the unspoken demand there.

"I'll uh…be sure to have it back to you as fast as I can." Adam said.

Mac seemed satisfied with his answer. "How long will this take?" He asked.

"Depends…" He started to say, but quickly changed his mind at Mac's expression. "Twenty minutes?"

"I'll be back in ten." Mac had barely made a move to leave before he stopped himself and faced Adam again. "Thank you." He offered sincerely before disappearing across the hall.

Adam was only briefly tempted to sort through the rest of the texts on his boss's phone, but because he valued his own life, decided against it. Now, had it been _Danny's_ phone, he'd already be halfway through the contacts and copying down women's phone numbers. Instead, Adam quickly got to work, hooking the phone up to his equipment and sorting through the relevant data.

As he was waiting for a scan to complete, Adam swiveled in his chair and watched his boss through the glass walls as he pulled on a lab coat and joined Hawkes in layout. He certainly seemed antsy this morning… Then again, cases with serial killers did that to people around here, even Mac Taylor, but maybe it was more than that as well.

Mac had never asked for a personal favor before. Something about these texts had been enough to change that. Adam glanced over the messages again. There was nothing inherently threatening about them. Out of context, they could be considered completely innocent- which was exactly how Adam was getting them. _'Rest up while you can…'_ That was sent at 10:18pm the night before. _'Game on, Detective.'_ That had come at 3:25am… not exactly social hour for texting, not that Adam pictured Mac as much of a texter.

Now that he thought about it, 3 am was when they discovered the second body… That could have been a creepy coincidence of course, and Adam had no reason to suspect otherwise. If it was relevant to a case, Mac would have told someone by now instead of asking him to take a look at it off the books…wouldn't he?

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Mac, Lindsay and Hawkes stood around the light table in layout, their meager evidence spread out before them, consisting of clothing and crime scene photos and a few other objects found near the body that could be relevant or just trash.

Hawkes pulled one photo toward him. "There's no blood trail and we haven't found the primary crime scene, so we're assuming he drove up and dumped her."

"There are no cameras in the alley or behind the bar," Lindsay continued, "But there is a street camera with a view of the alley entrance. They're sending the tapes up to Adam right now."

"What about trace?" Mac asked, leaning his hands on the table.

Hawkes perked up, dragging the second vic's jacket toward him. "I found traces of ammonia mixed with lemon scent here on the back."

"Disinfectant." Mac sighed. "What else?"

"There's a soil trace we're still trying to identify in her shoes, and her shirt was stained with generic baby food." Lindsay finished with a frown.

"She already had a baby?" Mac slid a picture of the vic across the table to get a better look. Unlike the first vic, this woman was blonde, but also very pretty, possibly younger than the first vic was and dressed just as casual. There was nothing fancy or overdone about them. "And she didn't have a ring… so where's the kid?"

There was silence for a few seconds as the CSIs scanned the evidence, hoping to see something they had missed before.

"Still nothing from missing persons?" Mac finally asked.

Hawkes shook his head. "I'll keep checking. Did Sid get anything?"

"I'm meeting with him in ten minutes." Mac looked up to see Adam waving at him from the AV lab. "Go over the clothes again." He called over his shoulder on his way out the door. Adam looked slightly nervous as Mac approached him. "What have you got?"

"I managed to track down the blocked number. It came back to a pre-paid phone. I tried tracing it and got nothing. It can't be turned on remotely either."

"So you got nothing?" Mac asked.

"Sorry." Adam winced.

"Not your fault." Mac muttered, taking the phone back from him.

"But if you happen to get another text and bring it to me right away, I'll have a better chance at it." Adam offered hopefully.

"Yeah, thanks." Mac turned to leave, but Adam's voice stopped him.

"Boss…" Adam stopped, wringing his hands together anxiously. "You think it's the killer, don't you?"

Mac looked at him in surprise which faded quickly into something unreadable. "I don't know who it is. That's why I needed you to find out."

"Don't you think you should tell someone anyways? I mean…" Adam bit his lip, the words having spilled out without his permission. "I mean…nevermind…"

Mac's expression softened, "I'm not going to derail a case with something that could or could not be related. Besides, you just told me it's a dead end, so right now it doesn't matter. You've got security tapes headed your way. Focus on that…and thanks for trying."

Mac shoved the phone back into his jeans pocket and headed for the 34th floor and the morgue. Hopefully Sid had news that would help them make some connections and keep this from happening again. The evidence they had wasn't much to go on, and unfortunately until they made an ID on the Jane Does or found another body with more evidence, finding this guy was going to be very difficult. Mac would have to wait on the security feed and the rest of the trace evidence until he started worrying, however. Killers had been found on less before…

All the while the texts kept nagging at him. It was the timing- the uncanny timing that made the hairs on his neck stand up. So far they revealed nothing, and even threatened nothing. If not for the timing, he would have dismissed them as pranks, and Mac didn't believe in coincidence. It looked like someone was watching him- who, he couldn't be sure. This serial killer would be the most obvious choice, but Mac had nothing to back it up. There still was the chance, however unlikely, that it was completely benign and unrelated, and that's why he was keeping his mouth shut for now.

"Mac, I was just about to call you." Sid greeted with a grin as the doors swung open.

"Tell me you have something this time." Mac said as he snapped on a pair of gloves and moved to stand across the table from Sid.

"Oh, yes," The old ME beamed. "Very interesting." He almost bounced as he pulled back the sheet, unveiling the body. "Time of death was somewhere between 8 and 9 last night. Same COD as your first vic, bullet to the head, close contact. The shot to the abdomen had similar placement as the first vic as well, and that's where the similarities end. Now here's where it gets interesting."

"What do you mean?" Mac asked. Sid had a way of revealing information like a magician performing a trick- a little here, a little there, but most of all, a long tedious buildup until the finale.

"This bullet below the navel had a slightly upward angle and lodged in the spine. It was also the second shot to enter her body, not the first."

"So she was already dead when he shot her the second time."

Sid nodded. "I would guess your first vic was standing, struggling with her attacker when she was shot. Your second vic was probably on the ground, so the shooter had a different angle. This Jane Doe also wasn't pregnant, though I assume she had a baby no more than 6 months ago. Seems she didn't quite get the chance to lose the pregnancy weight just yet- which is entirely understandable for a new mother. My second wife looked pregnant for two years after my daughter was born-."

"Sid…"

"Right," The ME instantly focused on the body again, "Now, there are no defensive wounds, bruises, or anything else to suggest a struggle, but the tox screen is negative. Perhaps after the first vic, he figured it was easier to make his point after she was dead and couldn't fight back, hence the switch in the order of the shots."

"What point are you making when you shoot a pregnant woman, supposedly aiming for the baby?" Mac wondered aloud.

"Well, the lack of sexual assault on either victim suggests it isn't about sex." The ME suggested. "I'd guess his point is more symbolic of something else."

"One vic is married, the other isn't. It can't be a statement about morality…unless it's about fidelity." Mac went on, almost speaking to himself now.

Sid shrugged. "I'm eccentric, not crazy. It's up to you to figure that one out."

"That it is…" Mac sighed.

"Here are your bullets, and soil trace from her hair." Sid said, handing over the evidence in their respective containers. "You get any sleep last night?"

Mac smiled. He'd been wondering when Sid would ask something like that again. "Yes." He snapped off his gloves and gathered the evidence. "Thanks, Sid." He turned and headed for the door before the ME could question him further. Truth was, even though his sleep had totaled 5 hours, he felt more rested than he had for a while, which said more for his dismal sleeping habits in the last month than anything, because last night was hardly what could be considered a good night's rest.

Mac dropped off the new trace evidence to Lindsay and kept Hawkes on missing persons while he took the bullets. They were pretty badly damaged, but after some clever manipulation and the aid of technology, Mac managed to compare the stria on the bullet from the first vic to the second. Perfect match. It wasn't unexpected, but at least they knew for certain now.

They definitely had a serial killer, which meant they also had to consider why the guy was evolving so quickly. It made him even more dangerous and elusive if there was not set pattern to follow. Then again, if he was getting more brazen, he would slip up eventually. Unfortunately that probably meant finding another body. They needed something now, before that happened.

"Boss!" Adam poked his head into the room, beckoning for Mac to follow him. "I got something on that camera."

Mac quickly secured the evidence and followed the tech back into the AV lab where the security footage was displayed on a large tv screen. "Okay, this was taken at exactly 2am. Watch here." Adam pointed to the screen where a dark, older model SUV slowed, turned into an alley and disappeared. "There was only one other car to enter the alley and that was at 10pm, but the bartender said he went out back at 1am and the body wasn't there." The tape continued rolling as the SUV backed out and drove off. "The car was in the alley for 6 minutes."

"You get anything else off it?" Mac asked as he stepped closer to get a better look at a freeze frame of the car. "No plates…"

Adam shook his head dejectedly. "And the angle of the shot puts too much glare on the windows to get a good look inside." He crossed his arms and shifted his feet as he lifted one hand to point out the car again. "I did manage to figure out it's a 1998 Ford Exporer, 4 doors. The camera quality makes it hard to pin-point a color, but based on the available factory options for this model, I'd have to go with either the medium wedgewood blue metallic or the pacific green metallic with tan trim around the wheels and running board."

"Good work, Adam." Mac praised, causing the tech to smile. "Run that through the DMV and see what you get. It's a good start."

"Already on it." Adam plopped down into his chair and spun it around to face the computer.

Mac was called away again almost immediately as Lindsay excitedly led him into trace. "I ran the soil we found on our second Jane Doe. They're a match to soil samples found at the same park our first victim was dumped."

Mac pursed his lips briefly. "It could be secondary transfer from the car she was transported in. The killer could have transferred the soil to the car after dumping the first vic."

"Which would make sense if the soil also wasn't embedded in the treads of our second vic's shoes." Lindsay explained with a grin.

Mac nodded, his own smile spreading. "You're saying Jane Doe #2 was walking in that park."

She nodded exaggeratedly. "And based on the lack of anything suggesting she was abducted, and the trace in her hair, I'd have to guess she was probably killed there."

"Great work, Lindsay." Mac pulled out his phone and dialed Flack. "We have to get back to that park."

* * *

><p>AN: I hope that wasn't incredibly rushed or too hard to follow... I tend to over-complicate cases. This was just a build up anyhow. In the next chapter, Mac and Don head back to the park and get a big surprise and whoever's taunting Mac ups his game.

Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! I need to know I haven't lost you after this snooze-fest of a chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you so so much for all the encouraging reviews! I was a little tough on myself on the last one. So...I won't go into detail about how this chapter fought me and I'm not entirely happy with it, BUT I think it's okay. We'll see.

Oh and a reminder- I've hinted that this is season 2, but I'm telling you- it's mid-season 2...just because I felt like it.

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Mac could feel Don staring at him again as they sat at another uncomfortably long stop light. He sighed and turned his head, catching Don's eyes before the younger detective could look away. "What?"

Don shook his head slightly as he shrugged. "Nothin'." He answered nonchalantly. His gaze shifted back to the road as the light finally turned green and they started creeping forward again through the mid-day traffic.

Despite the unnaturally warm fall weather outside, the atmosphere in the car had been icy at best this morning. It didn't help that the park was a good 90 minute drive away. If it had been a test between who would break first, Mac could have easily won, but he wasn't up for playing games. Whoever was sending texts clearly thought he was already involved in one. Two would be pushing it. Besides, they had a killer to catch, and Don had been overly interested in Mac's personal life the last few weeks. He wanted to get it out of the way before it got in the way.

"Don," Mac said, his stern expectant eyes still focused on Flack, letting him know he wasn't buying his brush off excuse.

Flack blew out a short breath before risking a brief glance away from the road to meet Mac's gaze again. "Alright fine, but only if you're honest with me this time." Mac just raised an eyebrow in response, which Flack knew to take as an invitation to go on, "Something's off, Mac."

"I told you the bullets match, Don. It's the same guy."

"I'm not talking about the case."

Mac nodded. He knew he wasn't. "Okay then, what?" Even when Mac had his suspicions, he found it best to let the other party talk it out as far as they could on their own before he joined in. It usually helped get things moving much more quickly if he could get a handle on their mood and stance on the issue and figure out the best way to approach the situation.

Claire had hated that about him… Mac almost smiled as he remembered. She had such a fiery and passionate soul, relentless in her pursuit to get what she wanted. Claire had suggested Mac's personality wasn't so different under the surface, which he guessed was true to a point. Contained was the word she used, not reserved. Reserved would have meant he was holding back on purpose, strategically storing away bits of himself to bring out later if he felt like it. Contained suggested everything was right under the surface. All it took was the right pressure and everything would explode. She spent much of her time early in their relationship trying to find the right trigger.

She liked to argue. Mac didn't. She thought it forced an honestly from them that wouldn't emerge otherwise. All she had wanted was for him to fight back, to show the emotions he kept so closely guarded, even from her at times. _"Will you ever, _just once,_ speak without thinking? Say what you're really feeling instead of planning it out?"_ It was a completely foreign and totally illogical concept to him at the time. It went against his training, his upbringing, and reason itself. He'd told her so, and ironically started their first big fight. Even after working it out with her, he still didn't grasp what she meant.

Then, over one year later, he finally did.

He was a rookie on the force then. A serial killer had been ruthlessly slaughtering entire families for weeks. He'd been on the scene of a lot of them. Claire knew about the case from the news, but he wouldn't talk about it. He thought he was doing the right thing- keep her happy, avoid confrontation… He didn't realize how much it actually hurt her that he was suffering and didn't say anything.

Everything came to a head when he came home one night to Claire who was upset about something mundane he couldn't remember. He'd promised rather half-heartedly to rectify whatever she was mad at him for and tried to brush past her when she stopped him, demanding something better than that. He'd shouted back at her for the first time he could remember, and he didn't stop until he dissolved right there on the spot, collapsing in the hallway of their tiny apartment, her arms secured tightly around his shoulders as every emotion he'd kept bottled up inside for over a month came spilling out of him at once.

Mac had learned the hard way the containment he practiced at work that helped to keep him alive and catch criminals wasn't exactly the best approach to his personal life. Letting everything out once in a while kept that bottle from exploding under built up pressure. Claire was one of the few people who had ever seen him completely let go. She helped him become vulnerable, and he was her rock. They were perfect together.

Then she was gone, and he'd reverted back to the tightly contained time bomb that was Mac Taylor. Thank heavens for Stella or he would still be that empty shell who felt nothing but grief. She had sort of taken on the role of being the one who got him to open up, and she was the only one he ever went to. It still took prodding and sometimes anger on her part, even when he wanted to talk, but eventually he would, and she was always there.

Don was a close friend, one he'd been through a lot with. Mac trusted him with his life, but there had always been that separation between his work and personal life that Don, out of respect for Mac, never crossed, even as much as Mac pressed Don to come to _him_ with his problems. If the lines were already crossed, however, the young detective was duty bound to investigate.

Flack's hands tightened on the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white for a brief moment. "I'm talking about you." Mac sat back in his seat and looked silently at the homicide detective. Don glanced at him and went on, "I mean, you've been off for weeks, and I get why, but I don't know if it's gone too far or if there's something else, now. I need the truth from you."

Mac finally spoke in that calm, controlled way that had driven Claire crazy. "Have I been screwing up cases, Don?"

"I can't draw the line there anymore, Mac." Don snapped. "Not after finding you at that bar."

The first real emotion crossed Mac's face as shame and embarrassment filled him. "I'm sorry about that."

"I don't want you to be sorry, Mac." Don said earnestly. "Hell, I'd just like to be invited next time you're set on getting hammered."

Mac laughed despite himself.

"I mean it." Don said, and though he was smiling, Mac knew he was serious, and not about getting drunk. What he really meant was, next time you're feeling like that, you can call me, and I'll be there.

"Yeah, alright."

"You better." Flack's phone starting ringing and he immediately answered. "Flack…yeah, got it. Thanks." He snapped his phone shut. "That was the precinct. Woman came by and reported her 26-year-old daughter missing after she went for a walk in Jackson Park last night and didn't come home. She's blonde and has a 5 month old son."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Hey, Stel, I need a favor."

"I barely walk in the door and you're already asking favors?" Stella teased as she stepped out of the elevators and into the lab. She spotted Mac's empty office. "Where are you?"

"Back at the park where we found the first vic. Could turn out to be the primary scene for our second."

Stella had heard about the second body on her way in to work. Mac's potentially cut and dry case was now anything but. With her case closed and handed off, she fully expected to be pulled onto this. "Alright, what do you need?"

"If Lindsay is still there, send her home. Our second vic may have just showed up in missing persons. Take Hawkes with you to question her mother and then send him home. They've been there all night."

Stella continued down the hallways, looking out for the two newest CSIs. "And what about you?" She asked casually.

She could just imagine the look on his face in the few seconds of silence that followed. He wouldn't roll his eyes, but it would be close. "You saw me go home, Stel."

"And you slept?"

"Yes. Plenty. You got everything covered there?"

Stella grinned at his obvious change of subject and the hint of impatience covered by fake amusement. "Yes. I see Sheldon and Lindsay now. I'll call you after we talk to the mother."

"Thanks." He said sincerely.

"No problem. Good luck."

Stella found Lindsay leaning over Hawkes' shoulder to look at the computer screen they were hovering around. "You guys find something?" She asked, causing the both of them to look up, too tired to show surprise.

"Finally might have an ID on the second vic." Hawkes said, fighting back a yawn as he pointed to the screen.

"Yeah, Mac just called. He wants you and me to check it out. Lindsay, you're off."

"Off?" She repeated. While both Lindsay and Hawkes looked exhausted, there was something else in the lab's recent addition from Montana that Stella had seen only a few times before, and only when the victims were young females. While she did her best to look professional, it seemed Lindsay took these cases personally. Stella always assumed it was because of their proximity in age. She remembered a case where she had received several comments that the victim looked eerily similar to her. It sure made Stella question her mortality when seeing the corpse for the first time and realizing how easily it _could_ be her one day. But then Stella remembered a recent case where Lindsay had flat out refused to talk to the mother of a murdered girl._ "I don't do mothers," _she had said.

That's when it dawned on her that Mac had a reason for sending Lindsay home first and not Hawkes. Usually being confronted with two women would be less intimidating and more comforting for the parent when revealing her daughter was possibly the victim of a homicide. Clearly Mac was looking out, not only for the mother, but for Lindsay as well by sending Stella and Hawkes instead.

"Yes, off. Go home, sleep. Don't come back until we call you. Got it?" Stella said with a smile. She didn't miss Sheldon's "dare to be hopeful" look, though he would never actually ask if he could leave as well. "You go home after the interview." She told him, to which he couldn't help but look relieved as he nodded. "Get your jacket. Storm's coming in. I'll meet you by the elevator in five."

Hawkes leapt up and went to prepare while Lindsay was slower to leave.

"Hey, you okay?" Stella asked her.

"Yep." Lindsay said with a tight smile and red eyes. "Just tired."

"You sure?" Stella pressed as it was clear the new CSI was close to tears though she did a valiant job of hiding it.

Lindsay nodded quickly, not trusting herself to speak at first. Finally she gave a shuddering sigh. "You know when you're just past exhausted and you just want to curl up and bawl for no reason? I'm there." She explained in a shaky voice as she quickly wiped away a few tears. "Guess I should get used to it, huh?" Lindsay added with a humorless laugh.

Stella gave her a reassuring smile, she didn't mention that she suspected compounding reasons for Lindsay's fragile emotional state. "Hey, it takes time. And if it's any consolation, I _still_ feel like that some days. You good to get home on your own?"

Lindsay nodded. "I'm fine."

"Well, if you need a few minutes, use the couch in the office until you're ready to go. Turn off the lights, close the blinds, don't let anybody bug you, okay?"

"Thank you." Lindsay said, looking both embarrassed and grateful. Stella gave her arm a comforting squeeze on her way out the door.

Stella admired how hard the Montanan always worked. She didn't have anything to prove to them anymore, but you would never catch her slacking. She had pulled a double just the day before and now she already pulling another one. It was enough to drive most people to hysterics. Stella remembered when she herself was new to the lab. The hours and pace were relentless. She had considered quitting more than once, but then she had gotten a good night's sleep and was as gung ho as ever to get back into work. It was Mac who still had to constantly remind her that her health and sanity were more important than her sticking on a case when someone else could take her spot. Of course Mac would never admit to that himself…

Stella passed the AV lab and spotted Adam typing away and simultaneously singing some unknown song, headphones buried in his ears. It took a tap on the shoulder for Adam to realize she was there. He jumped and nearly spilled out of his chair in his haste to rip the ear buds out. "Hey! Stella! Hi!"

She grinned. "Hello to you, too. I just wanted to know if that security footage from the bodega homicide yesterday came up with anything else."

"Ah, not that I found. It looks pretty straight forward. No accomplices or anything else out of the ordinary…you know aside from the kid robbing the place and killing people…" Adam had started to go off on some tangent at this point, but Stella had stopped listening.

"Adam, why is my phone number on your computer here?" She asked, cutting him off and causing the tech to go instantly green in the face.

"Um…uh…I…that's…it's-…oh…crap." He finished, looking fearfully up at the woman.

"Are you monitoring my phone?" She asked, her voice gaining a distinct edge that caused Adam to shrink even more.

"No! No, I swear. It has nothing to do with you. It's actually Mac's phone I'm watching- because he asked me to." Adam quickly added at Stella's look.

Her expression instantly morphed from confusion to concern. "Why did he ask you to track his phone?" She asked calmly, though it was clear her real emotions were lying just under the surface.

"I don't think- Well, it's not related to a case and I don't know if Mac wants me to tell…it's kind of supposed to be secret." Stella stared him down, but Adam actually held his ground. "You'll have to ask Mac, Stel."

She instantly softened. It wasn't Adam's fault. It was Mac's, and he would definitely be hearing from her. The only reason Mac would want his phone monitored would be to trace incoming calls. The only reason he would want that was if someone was calling him that he wanted tracked… probably because he was dangerous or had information… "I'm sorry, Adam. I'll ask him."

Adam looked relieved as his shoulders sagged. "Otherwise I'd tell you-."

"I know, don't worry about it." She smiled. "I'll be back in an hour or so." She spotted Sheldon in the hallway and went to meet him. "Ready?"

"How ready can you be to tell a parent their child is dead?" He asked with a frown.

"Not ready enough." She sighed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Don was left to coordinate the search with the recently arrived k-9 unit and park police while Mac set off by himself to do what he could alone in the meantime. A storm was blowing in quickly and their chances at finding an in-tact crime scene were falling with every passing minute.

Mac zipped his jacket up to his chin as a strong wind whipped at his collar. Leaves swirled past him and several slapped him in the face as they were ripped from the trees. Mac shoved his hands into his pockets and forged on.

The park was easily 50 acres- a large area to be sure, but only a fraction of the size of Central Park, which had been home to many a missing crime scene before. It was the secluded nature of this park that was a problem. It neighbored a State Park, which meant the surrounding population was largely rural with little foot traffic that offered even fewer witnesses. The trails were mostly dirt or asphalt. Luckily Mac was able to narrow down the search area by the lack of sand and presence of a rubber polymer used to seal cracks in asphalt in the trace on the second vic's shoes.

Mac was in the center of what he had decided was the best area to search, surrounded by towering trees which seemed to go on forever around him. The sky was growing darker, making Mac's ever present flashlight more useful than usual. He scanned the pathway for any signs of blood. The vic hadn't had any defensive wounds, but it was possible the killer could have lured her off the trail before shooting her. He decided to leave off-trail search to the k-9 unit as there wasn't any way he would be able to spot a nearly 20-hour-old blood stain with the wind stirring up the ground cover so much.

Mac was so intent on searching the trail he almost didn't feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. It was probably Stella. Hopefully the mother could narrow down the search area even more by pinpointing where her daughter would walk. He fished the phone out and stopped dead in his tracks. It wasn't Stella, and it wasn't a phone call.

_Getting warmer…_

Mac spun around, his eyes quickly scanning his surroundings. The phone buzzed in his hand again.

_Hurry up. Time's running out._

Mac's heart was pounding painfully in his chest now. He started to reach for his radio to call Flack when a sudden _crack!_ of a stick caused him to turn again, trying to pin point the source. The rushing wind made it hard to isolate the sounds around him. Blowing leaves and shuffling steps sounded frustratingly similar. His hand diverted on his course to his radio and instead unsnapped the safety on his holster.

Then he heard it. Distinct crunching of leaves stood out against the constant roar of the wind.

"NYPD! Who's there?" Mac called, stepping toward where he thought the sounds were emanating from.

A dark shape separated from the trunk of a tree and suddenly streaked off in the opposite direction. Mac immediately followed after it, quickly notifying Flack via radio that he was in pursuit, but not waiting for a response.

Low-hanging branches and twigs slapped at his face while bushes grabbed at his legs as Mac's chase led him off the trail and into the trees. He caught glimpses of the shape through the foliage as it ran ahead of him. Mac's repeated demands for it to stop did nothing to phase it.

The world gave a sudden tilt around him as a root seemed to leap up and trip Mac, sending him flying face first into the dirt, but he didn't stop there.

The ground suddenly gave way into a steep incline. He was picking up pace as he tumbled and rolled, grasping for any handhold to slow his decent. He managed to turn himself onto his stomach and get his feet pointing downhill just as he felt the ground disappear from under him.

Mac suddenly found himself vertical again as his body slammed into the side of a cliff. His hands gripping onto the ledge were the only things that had kept him from flying off the edge and hitting the highway winding 50 feet below him.

He hung there for a few seconds, letting the last minute of rapid events wash over him as he caught his breath.

Forcing his adrenaline filled muscles to comply, Mac secured his hold on the ledge and used the plentiful foot holds on the jagged cliff to help haul himself back up. He nearly collapsed once he heaved his body back over the edge, his limbs shaking in the aftermath of the adrenaline rush and exertion. He didn't trust himself to traverse back up the ravine quite yet and allowed himself to catch his breath. Whoever he was chasing was probably long gone by now. Hopefully Flack and the other uniforms were close enough to find the trail and track it down.

Mac chanced a glimpse over the edge to the highway below and was surprised to find there was yet more adrenaline his body had to unleash, not because of realizing the height he had nearly fallen, but because of the car parked on the side of the road below him.

It was a dark blue Explorer with tan trim.

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A/N: And there you have it. Please let me know what you think! I really appreciate all of your reviews and find them incredibly helpful.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: You guys are definitely the best reviewers ever. I was so incredibly happy and humbled for all the feedback I got from you for the last chapter. This one's...more of a transition chapter. They didn't want to stay in character. I wrestled and fought, but they're all so darn stubborn about it, so until they decide to cooperate, this is what you get.

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Mac gingerly set himself down on a bench on the side of the trail while Don watched him closely enough to help if need be, but not quite close enough to look like that was his intention. A parking lot sat a few yards away. The Avalanche was parked haphazardly across three spaces where Don had left it before he had bailed out to respond to Mac's radio call.

Flack had arrived just as Mac was pulling himself up the last few feet of a dangerously steep ravine that ended suddenly 10 feet down. Don had grabbed Mac's collar and dragged him up the last bit, after which Mac had sat up against his tree, catching his breath. His only response to the question of what had happened was that he had tripped.

"Yeah, tripped over a cliff." Don had scoffed, but chose not to push it anymore than that. Mac's clothes were dirty, his jeans were ripped at the knee, and a collection of small cuts had appeared on the side of his face along with a deep, ugly looking gash across the palm of his right hand he didn't think Don had noticed. Instead of interrogating him, Don just helped the CSI to his feet and let him walk off the slight limp he'd developed, favoring the knee under the torn leg of his jeans.

Units had already set out trying to locate the Explorer Mac had reported seeing, but it was gone by the time they arrived. There were so many side roads and hills in this region that it was unlikely they would find anything now. The k-9s were out tracking the trail of whoever had led Mac on the chase. All the while, the storm drew nearer, the sky almost black with ominous looking clouds.

"You think you were chasing the suspect?" Don asked, sitting next to Mac on the bench.

He shrugged as he cautiously flexed his hand and bit back a wince. "I don't know. I didn't see anyone get into the car before it drove off."

"What was he doing here? Trying to keep us from finding the scene?"

Mac shook his head. "He wants to watch us. He doesn't care what we know so long as he knows what we know."

Don furrowed his eyebrows. Mac was doing it again. "And how did you arrive at _that_ conclusion?" He asked quizzically.

Mac let out a long breath and dug his phone out of his pocket. He turned it over and over in his left hand for a few seconds until he suddenly looked up at the sound of an approaching car. It was another familiar Avalanche. "Did you call them?" Mac asked.

"No, but the vic lived nearby. They probably heard the call on the radio and decided to check it out." Don stood up and heard Mac let out a sigh behind him that almost turned into a frustrated growl.

Stella stepped out of the car, looking on the verge of a carefully concealed panic, and rushed toward them, Sheldon following close behind. "Did you find him?"

Don shook his head. "He slipped through. You get anything from the mother?" He asked, discreetly stepping away from Mac in anticipation of what he knew was about to happen.

"She says it's definitely her daughter, but she's stopping by the morgue for confirmation later today-." Stella stopped, her eyes suddenly going wide as she caught sight of Mac now that Don was no longer blocking him. "Mac! What happened to you?" She asked as she hurried forward and crouched in front of him, her hand gingerly touching the side of his face.

He winced and pulled back. "I'm fine."

"The hell you are. Sheldon," She called over her shoulder.

The former ME stepped forward, "What happened?" He asked.

"Tripped." Don and Mac answered simultaneously. Flack smirked while Mac shifted his jaw to hide the fact that he was smiling.

Not getting the joke, Stella and Hawkes shared a puzzled look. "Did you hit your head at all?" Sheldon continued.

Mac shook his head. "I'm fine, Hawkes."

"Check his hand." Don said, earning himself a glare from the head CSI.

Hawkes didn't have to ask which one. He could see from the way his boss was favoring the limb that something was wrong. Ousted by his friend, Mac had no choice but let Hawkes look it over.

Don hadn't gotten a good look at it until then and let out a low whistle. "That doesn't look good." Mac shot him another glare, but it was interrupted by a grimace as Hawkes prodded the tender flesh. The gash started at the heel of his hand and crossed the palm at a diagonal, ending just below his index finger. The wound was deep and covered in dirt and other debris that stuck in the drying blood.

"How'd you get this?" Sheldon asked.

"A rock." Mac answered simply.

"I really need to clean this out." Hawkes said. "My kit's in the car. I'll be right back." He dashed off toward the truck while Stella took her place back in front of her partner.

"Tripped?"

Mac just looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "What else did you find out about the daughter?"

Stella grit her teeth, but answered anyways, all the while, throwing Mac looks. "Name is Cheryl Fields. She lived with her mother and 5-month old son. They ran a business from home together selling custom jewelry. No father in the picture. I have Danny looking him up to be sure. Other than that, she had few friends, no known enemies. The mother didn't recognize the first vic either and she claims to have known her daughter's friends very well."

Mac sighed. "At least it's something."

Stella dropped her hands from her hips, ready to get her own information. "What was the guy doing here, Mac? Did he try to attack you?"

Don spoke up, remembering that he had asked the same question and the dark expression that had crossed Mac's face when he had. "Mac actually has a theory about that he was about to share with me before you showed up."

Mac stiffened as he became suddenly fixated on the dirt at his feet. After a minute, he ran his good hand over his face and paused before looking up at them. "I think the killer has been contacting me."

"Contacting you?" Stella asked, her eyebrows raised, almost disappearing into her curly hairline. "Since when?"

Mac licked his lips and dug his phone back out of his pocket. He scratched his neck and held it out to her. "Since last night."

Stella snatched the phone from his hand. "This is why you had Adam tracking your phone, isn't it?"

A brief look of surprise crossed Mac's face. "Yes," he admitted.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Don stepped forward. "This guy has been talking to you, and you haven't said anything?" He felt he finally had his answer to why Mac had been acting strangely that morning.

"I didn't know it was him…not until now. Check the texts."

Stella opened the only text from the day before and, with Don reading over her shoulder, went through every progressive message until she came upon one sent 15 minutes before. "There's one you haven't read yet." She said, taking it upon herself to open it.

Don bit his lip as he read the message and raked his fingers through his hair. _"Close call, Detective. Be more careful next time."_ He muttered as he read it aloud.

"That's just great, Mac." Stella said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "You have a serial killer after you."

"He's not _after_ me." Mac corrected her, and either he really thought this guy wasn't after him, or he was hiding it really well. Don wasn't the subject of these texts and even he was making sure his gun was loose in his holster.

"No, he just wants to play a game with you, right?" Don asked, eyebrow raised as he looked down at his friend in disbelief. "Because _that's_ better."

"Just when exactly were you going to tell me about this?" Stella snapped, her anger masking the obvious concern she was feeling for her partner. "And why would you get Adam involved first?"

Mac sighed. "Stel, I didn't want to make a big deal over nothing. I had Adam check it out to see if he could trace the number and got nothing. I didn't know who it was or why. I needed a clearer picture. None of the messages are a threat against me."

Flack could feel Stella's frustration at Mac building up beside him and could tell the stubbornness characteristic to each of them was about to escalate this discussion into a full blown argument. "This guy is clearly capable of killing, Mac! Were you waiting for death threats before you decided to say something?"

Mac was clearly done playing the calm mediator. "If I knew it had a connection to the case, I would have said something. Knowing about them doesn't make any difference, then or now." Mac snapped. "We're still nowhere."

"This isn't about the case!" Stella cried.

Sheldon slowly stepped up beside Flack and looked between the fuming partners warily. "Should I-?"

Stella threw up her hands and marched past the former ME without looking at him. "Go ahead, Hawkes. I'm done talking to him."

Sheldon looked to Flack and then at Mac who was letting out a long breath as he rubbed his face with his good hand.

"I got _her_. Fix _him_." Don said simply. He turned and spotted Stella searching through her clothes for the keys to the truck, quickly getting more and more frustrated as each pocket came up empty. She forcefully shoved her hair behind her ear, but the powerful wind just threw it right back in her face. "I think Hawkes has them." He said casually, leaning against the identical truck parked one stall away.

Stella blew out a breath, crossing her arms tightly across her chest as another gust tugged at her jacket.

"You have to cut him some slack. He's right." Don continued, taking a step toward her. His voice was getting caught up in the wind, making it hard for him to hear even himself. "You would have done the same."

"And he would have been pissed at me for it." Stella replied, casting him a sidelong glance.

Don smirked, fighting back his own anger for the time being. "Well, yeah. For good reason. It was stupid, and he knows that. You have to admit, he did tell Adam. It's not like he wasn't looking into it."

The muscles in Stella's jaw visibly tightened for a moment. "I guess I'm just a little worked up by the case… She had a baby, Flack. He stole that kid's mother. This same guy was close enough to kill Mac and-…" She trailed off.

Flack nodded, now leaning against the door of her truck, his hands in his pockets. She didn't have to finish the sentence. He knew what she would have said; _'-and he doesn't even care.' _Flack shook it off. "We're all worked up about this, Stel… It's probably why Mac didn't say anything. The case is emotional enough as it is without dragging him into the spotlight."

Stella sighed and nodded before looking up at the blackened sky. She felt a single drop strike her cheek. "Perfect…" She muttered, wiping it away with her fingers.

_There goes the crime scene… _

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Mac sat back in the passenger's seat, trying not to fidget with the bandage on his hand. Sheldon had done the best he could to clean the wound out. He'd used a squeeze bottle of some liquid that stung on contact to irrigate it and dragged soaked gauze pads through the gash, causing it to start bleeding again. The former ME wouldn't stitch it, insisting that his cleaning technique wasn't quite thorough enough and closing the wound risked sealing bacteria inside. Mac would need to go to a hospital for that.

On hearing that it may not even require stitches at all, Mac had decided to skip the ER all together. He didn't have hours to waste in a waiting room. There was a killer out there, one closer than Mac had wanted to realize. Statistically, less crimes were committed in foul weather like this, so they needed to use the time to get closer to their killer. Danny had finally found the name of Cheryl Fields' ex and the father of her baby, so Don and Mac were heading to his house to question him.

Before they had left, Stella had shared a brief look with him as she climbed into the other truck to drive Sheldon home. She didn't need to say the words for him to take it as an apology. She was worried, he knew that, but like his ugly habits of the pre-Claire days, he had been keeping silent and brushing off her concern. He dug the fingers of his hand into his eyes, internally cursing himself. Why did he do it?

Rain pounded on the car's exterior, the big drops coating the windshield faster than the wipers could clear them away. They might as well have been driving under a waterfall. Aside from the cursed liquid causing them to call off the search entirely, Mac actually found the rhythm of the water slapping against the metal to be an oddly relaxing sound. He let it wash over him, taking with it the recently acquired aches and pains of his near death experience.

Don left him in silence, which Mac was grateful for. He knew the detective wasn't quite as upset as Stella, but still not happy with him for keeping the texts a secret. Mac was still sticking with his reasons. Knowing about the texts did nothing to help them. Now, not only were they no closer to this killer, but he had Stella and Flack taking their focus off the case to worry about _him_, watching for some wraith to swoop in and kill him. Mac didn't know what it was, but he genuinely did not think this guy was out to kill him. That wouldn't fit the profile.

This guy wanted to play. For that he needed an opponent- a live one. Eventually the killer would slip, reveal something. Then Mac would have him.

Until then, they were still as in the dark as ever.

Cheryl Fields' ex was a dead end…quite literally. The man had killed himself two months before. It was his distraught mother who revealed this to Don and Mac as they stood on the porch, rain quickly soaking through their jackets as the woman ranted and screamed about the heartless tramp who had destroyed her poor son by getting pregnant and demanding child support when they had no money for it. In her opinion, it was a blessing to the world that the girl was dead, just like the old woman's own victimized, innocent son. Flack was in the middle of apologizing when the door slammed shut, narrowly avoiding taking skin off his nose.

He shared a look with Mac before they turned and retreated back to the warm interior of the Avalanche. "Alright, where does this leave us?" Don sighed as he started the engine back up and kicked on the defroster as the windows fogged up almost immediately.

Mac chewed on his lip for a few seconds. "She might have been onto something. Maybe our original assumption wasn't so far off. Someone could have been upset at the victims for getting pregnant."

"You think Grandma back there is a suspect?" Flack asked with a smirk.

Mac smiled back and shook his head. Sometimes arresting people, especially the elderly or young, was difficult… and sometimes it was the most satisfying thing in the world. "If it's true, then the killer would have to know both victims fairly well. We'll go deeper into Cheryl Fields' background and see if we can't find our Jane Doe's identity through her." It was a long shot on a gut feeling, but it was all they had.

They almost made it all the way back to the lab in silence, until Don finally spoke, perhaps having used the long ride to work up the courage. "Mac, I'm gonna have to stick with you on this one."

The CSI gave his friend a perplexed look. "What?"

"You said it yourself, this guy is escalating. First he dumps a body behind a bar, and then he shows up at a crime scene? All the while he's contacting you? Maybe he's not threatening you yet, but if he's advancing this quickly, you may not get a warning before he decides to come after you. As far as I'm concerned, I'm your shadow for the rest of this investigation."

Mac let out a long sigh, turning away from Flack to stare out at the world as it shifted shapes in the water cascading down the window. He had plenty of reasons to deny him. First, he didn't consider himself in danger. Second, it might slow the investigation down if Don was stuck tailing him all day. Third…it was just obnoxious. But Mac didn't say any of those things. "Fine."

Mac felt about as surprised as Don looked that he'd said it. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was to put Stella at ease, or Don. Maybe it was just to get them off his back… Maybe somewhere deep inside him, Mac knew Don was right.

"Good." Flack finally said when he'd found his voice again. He must have still been in shock, because he didn't say another word until they reached the lab.

The storm was rolling in over the city as they arrived and the sky only grew darker as the sun that had beat down on them just that morning, started to set, dropping the temperature even more.

Mac and Don were on their way to hang up their dripping coats in Mac's office when they were met by Danny in the hallway.

"Don't you two drowned rats look lovely today." He quipped smugly.

"Watch it, Messer." Flack warned. "Or I'll show you a drowned rat." He went to ring out his jacket over Danny's head, causing the younger CSI to jump back and nearly slip on the resulting puddle.

"Both of you watch it." Mac smirked, pushing the door open to his office as he shrugged off his own coat.

Danny grinned, but it faded as he took a closer look at his boss. "Hey, you okay, Mac?"

"Fine," Mac replied casually, "Don, help Danny dig into the vic's background. I'm gonna hit the showers and change, then I'll come help."

"What, Don works here now?" Danny asked with a smirk. "Does that mean I get seniority?"

Mac shrugged, much to Don's displeasure. "Sure. Give him a job. He's not going back out in this storm." He added as an explanation. Don shot him a look, clearly taking it as retaliation for letting Don tail him. Mac just smiled at him as ambled off down the hallway toward the locker room, looking forward to a hot shower and clean clothes.

Fate yet again had a different idea.

"Mac!"

He stopped, his hand on the door, as he heard his name being called frantically behind him. "Adam? What are you still doing here?"

The lab tech was slightly breathless as he caught up to Mac. "I was tracking incoming communication to your phone, right?" Mac nodded. "Well, the texts were rapid enough to pinpoint the number they were coming from. I couldn't trace it again, but I kept trying, and I finally got something. The phone was somehow reactivated and has an active signal. I got a location."

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A/N: Slightly rushed...I really tried to fix it. As always, I so very much appreciate reviews and comments and even just a hello. You really have no idea how much they mean to me, and all the other writers on here, I'm sure. Thank you so much for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Ah, I love you guys so much. I definitely appreciate all the new reviewers and your comments! This ones a little longer than usual I think. I actually wanted to get somewhere and ended up not actually doing that. But I had a lot of fun getting nowhere. Too much fun. Don't hate me.

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Mac was regretting not picking up breakfast when Flack had that morning on the way to the park. At the time, he had settled for a second cup of coffee while Don had gone all out on no less than 4 pre-packaged blueberry muffins from a gas station. He had offered Mac one, and consequently discovered the only serious allergy the head of the crime lab suffered from when Mac turned him down. After Flack's hurried apology for almost killing him, there hadn't been much time to stop and eat.

That had been nearly 10 hours ago.

Danny was currently making quick work of the last remaining muffin after begging Flack to split it with him. Mac absently wondered how an eating contest between those two would end as his own stomach started to ache for want of food. It had been a good 24 hours since his last "meal", which had consisted of a questionable Hot Pocket from the vending machine he ended up wishing he hadn't eaten at all.

"How far out?" Don called over his shoulder to Danny, who sat in the back seat acting as navigator, GPS in hand.

Danny cleaned his fingers of the last remnants of the muffin, crumpled the wrapper and tossed it aside. "You got another 10 blocks, Flack. It's gonna be on our right between 8th and 9th."

"Is it still moving?" Mac asked. After Adam had tracked the phone, the signal had traveled a few blocks from its original location in Brooklyn, periodically moving again, but never far and never very fast, suggesting someone was carrying it around with them.

Danny shook his head. "Completely stationary since we left. Adam just crosschecked the coordinates and landed the signal in an alley between an old movie theater and a deli."

The radio in Mac's ear squawked that backup was still five minutes out, so Flack pulled up a block away and the three of them double-checked their weapons and bullet-proof vests.

"Uh oh." Danny suddenly said, eyeing the device beside him. "Signal's moving again."

Mac looked out through the windshield toward the alley entrance. The rain had let up, but only slightly, allowing him to make out only dull colors shifting in the last light of the day.

"Your call, Mac." Flack said, not taking his eyes off what he assumed was the right location.

Mac lifted the radio transceiver to his mouth, "Subject is on the move. We're gonna go ahead and close in on him."

Dispatch relayed his message to backup and reiterated that they were still another four minutes out.

"Copy." Mac looked around the truck and received ready nods from Danny and Flack. They simultaneously climbed from the car and moved to the sidewalk, Flack and Mac taking the lead to block Danny from sight as he read the GPS in his hands.

"Alright, he's heading around the corner, going East on 9th." Danny reported.

Mac and Don picked up their pace while trying not to draw too much attention to themselves. The neighborhood wasn't blatantly dangerous, but could easily become so with very little provocation. They rounded the corner and found themselves on a sparsely populated street lined with shops, half of which were abandoned and closed up. The others clearly weren't attracting much more business than their foreclosed counterparts. There was still just enough foot traffic, even in this weather, to make it difficult to identify their suspect.

"He's stopped." Danny suddenly said, and the two detectives in front of him responded immediately, their eyes closely scanning the pedestrians. "Now he's turning right."

The dark and faceless people hurrying along the sidewalk almost blurred together in this light. Umbrellas made it even worse. Then Mac spotted someone breaking off from the crowd and heading into another alley. "Got him."

Flack picked up the pace beside him as the three of them started jogging, slowing only when they reached the corner of the building lining one edge of the alley their suspect had disappeared into. They paused briefly to pull out their weapons and ready themselves, and wordlessly coordinated their next movements.

At a single nod from Mac, they whirled around the corner. It was almost pitch black in the alley, and nothing moved. They wandered deeper inside and Flack pulled out his flashlight, looking at Mac for the okay to turn it on before he did so. The powerful beam split through the night and illuminated a few trashcans and plenty of trash, but no human being they could see.

They were reaching the end of the alley where it split off into several more when a sudden crash caused all three of the detectives' weapons to point at the same spot to their right only 10 feet away. A second later, a black shape bolted from behind a pile of cardboard boxes and took off down an adjacent alley.

"NYPD! Freeze!" Flack cried as he sprinted after him.

The shape knocked over whatever he could get his hands on as he continued running, forcing his pursuers to avoid boxes, boards and several trashcans as they were thrown to the ground behind the fleeing suspect.

Flack's flashlight bounced off the walls and illuminated the path ahead, causing Mac to catch a glimpse of something that gave him an idea. At the next branch of intersecting alleys, Flack, Danny and the suspect continued straight while Mac veered off to the left, hoping his plan would work.

It was suddenly unnerving to be running by himself down the dark narrow space, with only the sound of the rain and his feet as they splashed through the growing puddles. He spotted a light ahead as the alley opened up and turned right again, now back on the main street. There were only two or three pedestrians out as he sprinted along the sidewalk, giving him curious looks as he passed them.

He found the spot he was looking for just up ahead and felt instant gratification as he spotted a dark shape bolt out from an alley mere feet in front of him. Mac immediately tackled the figure to the ground as it struggled and tried to fight him off, but to no avail.

"Hey! Get off me! I didn't _do_ anything!" It was a male voice, young, and probably somewhere in his 20s.

"Shut up." Mac snapped as Danny and Don finally caught up and breathlessly took in the scene. "Flack, search him." Mac said as he climbed off the suspect, shaking out his hand which had collided with the sidewalk when he'd tackled the man.

"What, you got a short cut you didn't tell us about?" Flack gasped, grabbing the suspect by the collar and hauling him to his feet before shoving him against a wall.

Mac smirked and watched as Flack search through the man's clothes. "There's a subway station across the street. Figured he'd head for it." He explained.

Danny smiled and shook his head in disbelief as he pulled out his radio and updated backup on their location. "They're on their way." He said, and then paused as he looked Mac over.

Self-consciously, Mac fought the urge to do the same. "What?"

"You good?" Danny asked in a tone Mac easily recognized for all the times he'd used it before. It was his 'I'm just curious and mean nothing at all by this question, even though I really do' voice. He used it when he wanted to avoid getting in trouble for asking something he maybe shouldn't be.

Mac nodded, "Yeah." He knew he had to look like crap. They were all soaking wet and looked ridiculous, but he hadn't had a chance to change his clothes from earlier and the cuts on his face, stinging in the cold rain, probably stood out even more now. His hand continued throbbing and had probably started bleeding again. Add to that the exhaustion starting to creep up on him, and he couldn't blame Danny for asking.

"Hey, Mac." Flack had been rooting through the man's jacket and pulled out a small woman's purse.

Mac took it from his hands and pulled back the zipper. Inside was a small flip phone and several cards. One was an ID for a young blonde woman. The name read Cheryl Fields. He handed the rest of the purse to Danny, but kept the phone and flipped it open. It was cheap and didn't have a brand name he knew, but he certainly recognized the texts in the outbox.

Flack had finished patting the man down and made him turn around and lean against the wall. A nearby street lamp gave them their first good look at the man. He was well-tanned with dark hair and a few days' worth of stubble on his chin. He was probably in his mid-twenties and otherwise looked like he took care of himself. At the moment he looked absolutely terrified.

Mac instantly started in on him. "What's your name?"

"D-Daniel…Rudd." He stuttered in response.

Flack gave Mac a look, but he didn't return it. He didn't exactly fit the profile of a cocky serial killer, but sociopaths were more than capable of lying very well. "What are you doing with a dead woman's purse?" Mac continued.

"Dead?" The man squawked. "Oh no, no, no, no. I didn't know she was dead. I swear to you. I found that purse in the park."

"On your way to turn it in to the lost and found, then?" Flack quipped.

The man grimaced, "I admit I was just going to keep it, but there's no cash inside. I was going to sell the cards to a guy here, but he didn't show up."

Backup was arriving now. The squad cars pulled up to the curb, their lights dancing across the walls.

Mac turned back to the man, "Did you see anyone else in the park? Maybe someone gave that purse to you or pointed you in the right direction?"

"Uh well… there was someone. He asked me if I dropped my wallet because he spotted one down the trail. I hadn't, but I went back anyways and found the purse."

Mac's waning interest was now peaked. "You get a good look at him?"

Rudd shook his head. "It was freezing up there. The guy had a big coat on and a hat. I wasn't really paying attention to tell the truth. I go up there to be alone." He shrugged hopelessly. "Then there was someone else who started chasing me saying he was a cop…" He trailed off at Mac's expression as it dawned on him who exactly it had been.

"I'm legally required to tell you that you can keep your mouth shut before you admit to anything else." Mac sighed and called forward a uniform to cuff him.

"Wait, wait, what am I being arrested for?" Rudd cried.

"Right now? Just theft, but maybe you'll get lucky and we'll add on a murder charge." Flack replied as an officer started leading him away to the back of his squad car, reciting Rudd's Miranda rights as he went. "You believe him?" Flack asked, turning back to Mac.

Mac shook his head and shrugged. "We'll have to wait on the evidence for that. So far, what he says makes sense. This could be just another part of the killer's game, getting us to chase down this guy after stashing the phone in the purse. It explains why he was up there. I think our killer is too smart to let us track him this easily."

"What's this guy's endgame, Mac?" Danny asked. He'd only been briefly informed that Mac had been receiving texts and they were suspected to be from their killer. Other than that, he was sketchy on the details which Mac was reluctant to divulge.

He shrugged again. "I don't know. Hopefully we don't find out."

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It was nearing 9pm by the time Mac and Don were satisfied that Daniel Rudd had no more information for them and left the quivering man in the interrogation room.

"Well, that was useless." Flack muttered as he rubbed at his tired eyes. "Who needs sociopaths when we have upstanding guys like that to get in our way?" He continued wryly.

Mac managed a smile in return. It was his second day of working over 17 hours straight. After finding the first vic the day before, Flack had been able to go home and sleep until the second one was found, and if he looked that tired, Mac knew he had to look much worse. He felt shaky and weak from lack of sleep and food. His injured right hand was actually visibly shaking which was why he kept it tucked safely in his pocket. It was still throbbing dully, but not enough to be a concern. What did cause him to worry was that the risk of him missing something or screwing up increased with every passing hour without rest.

That point was only emphasized when his phone vibrated in his pocket and nearly caused him to jump in surprise. He wasn't sure if that was in anticipation of receiving another text or because he was just that exhausted.

Mac pulled the phone from his pocket, and was relieved when he saw Danny's name on the caller ID. "What do you got?"

"Rudd is telling the truth. He was in the system when I ran his prints. Turns out he was pulled in for a drunk and disorderly a few days ago and spent the day in jail. The time coincides with our estimated time of death for Jane Doe. It wasn't him."

Mac let out a long breath. "He claims he has an alibi for last night as well. Is his mother in assisted living by chance?"

"Yep." Danny confirmed. "Wait…his mother is his alibi?"

"BINGO night at the senior center." Mac heard Danny's snort of laughter over the phone.

"Classic."

Mac couldn't help but smile. "What about the purse and the phone?"

"Still waiting on results for trace, but no prints except for Rudd and our vic. Stella's still working on the phone."

"Alright, keep it up. We'll be there soon." Mac hung up and spotted Flack looking at him wearily.

"You're heading back to the lab?" He asked in a deadpan, apparently not willing to summon the energy for an emotion.

"What, are you regretting tailing me already?" Mac smirked.

"My shift did technically end 10 hours ago." Flack nodded, pulling his keys from his pocket anyways. "What else are you going to find?"

"Exactly." Mac said, as though it were obvious. "What if I buy dinner on the way?" he added, and grinned as Flack instantly perked up.

"I'm in."

By the time Don and Mac had reached the lab, Mac was still picking at his sandwich while Don was polishing off the last of the fries. Mac was surprised at how much he actually had to force himself to finish just half of his meal. Don had already claimed his fries as well at Mac's invitation. Mac knew he wouldn't finish them. He wasn't sure if it was the late hour or his level of exhaustion, but food was just not as appealing as he thought it would be.

As they rode the empty elevator up to the 35th floor, Don decided to comment on it. "You doin' okay?"

Mac offered an appreciative smile and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good."

"Stella's going to kick you right back out the door when we get there. You know that." Flack said with a raised eyebrow.

Mac nodded. "Yep." And yet he was still there. He had to put his mind at ease that everything was covered before he dared leave.

The doors slid open, revealing the much smaller night shift as they scrambled about the lab. Mac and Don didn't get far as Stella intercepted them at Mac's office.

"I hear Rudd didn't give you much." She greeted.

"Nope." Flack replied. "What about on your end?"

She shook her head. "The purse was soaked through and didn't give us much of anything. The phone was pre-paid with Cheryl Fields' own credit card and didn't have a single print on it. Surprisingly the thing still works, as wet as it was, and it was definitely the phone used to the send the texts from this afternoon. I have some techs seeing if they can track down where the phone was bought, but most stores are closed until morning."

"The cheap phones are always the toughest." Flack said. "Drop that thing off the Chrysler building and it'd still be ticking."

"Unfortunately I can't say the same for you two. You look exhausted." Stella continued. "Now, go home."

"If I remember correctly, your shift is over too." Mac said, raising an eyebrow at his partner.

She gave a fake smile in response. "And that's why I'm also going home. There's nothing else we can do tonight, Mac. We'll only miss something if we keep at it anymore today."

Mac didn't bother to argue. He agreed with her. "Make sure Danny gets home too?"

"Sure thing. Is Flack going with you?" She added as the two detectives turned to leave.

The men looked at each other and back at Stella. "Why would he do that?" Mac asked quizzically.

Stella suddenly became serious again as she stared him down. "Mac, we don't know the extent of the threat against you."

Mac opened his mouth to reiterate that there was no threat, but was cut off by Flack's sarcastic response. "You did buy me dinner. It's only polite." He teased.

Mac fought a roll of his eyes. "I didn't agree to that."

"Pardon me for saying so, but wouldn't you be most vulnerable at your apartment? I think that's the number one place I should be tailing you right now." Flack said, the humor gone from his voice.

Mac looked between Flack's apologetic expression and Stella's indignant glare. "Alright, fine. I have a guest bedroom you can sleep in." He conceded.

"Good." Stella nodded, satisfied. She stepped forward suddenly and planted a soft kiss on her partner's cheek. "You be safe." She said in a low tone as she pulled back and locked eyes with him as he stared back, almost in shock.

He could easily see past her tough façade to the deep unease she was feeling. It surprised him, not because she cared, but because of how worried she actually was. Mac wasn't at all concerned for his safety, but Stella's anxiety caused him to feel a little uneasy himself. Mac nodded, his head barely moving. "I'll be fine." He assured her.

She nodded, forcing herself to smile, as Mac followed Flack back to the elevators. When they slid shut again behind them, Mac leaned heavily against the wall.

"You're lucky she doesn't have you leashed." Flack drawled from the corner he was using for support.

Mac smirked, too tired to summon a laugh. "Yeah. She worries too much."

"Don't give her so many reasons to." Flack said simply.

Mac contemplated that thought all the way to his apartment. He kept going back and forth between insisting it was out of his control to realizing it might not be. Then he finally settled on the fact that Stella would worry regardless simply because she cared about him, the same way he did her. Of course, it would only be fair if he helped to ease her concerns instead of adding to them…

Luckily, Don kept an overnight bag in his trunk, so they didn't have to worry about stopping over at his house first. By the time Mac was opening the door to his apartment, he'd developed a headache that pulsed in time with his hand. Mac showered while the homicide detective checked over the apartment, making sure it was secure. Mac silently considered this a little ridiculous, but let Don do it just to ease the man's mind.

After being soaked for half the day and unable to change, the hot water that cascaded over Mac's body felt like heaven. It even helped relieve his headache somewhat as well as the other aches he could pinpoint down to the exact spot by the dark bruises mottling his chest and legs he hadn't been able to see before. Apparently the cold had also helped to mask how bad his fall had actually been. He looked a lot worse than he felt thankfully. His ribs ached as well as his knee, but that was about it- nothing that required Hawkes' attention at least.

Mac started to feel lethargic as his enervated muscles started to relax in the heat and figured it was a good time for him to get out of the shower before he collapsed and drowned in his own bathroom. Wouldn't that just be a fitting way for him to die after today?

He downed a few ibuprofen and rewrapped his hand, choosing to ignore how ugly and discolored the skin around his palm now was. Sheldon had told him what to watch for, so as bad as it looked, he wasn't too worried. He pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and couldn't remember a time when he was more ready to crawl into his bed and sleep for hours. He had thought the same thing the night before, but this decidedly trumped that.

Mac poked his head into his living room and spotted Flack sitting on his couch, his head slowly dipping down to touch his chest before jerking up again. "Don." Mac called, causing the detective's head to snap up again.

"Huh?"

"Towels are under the sink if you want to shower. Otherwise, the guest bedroom is the first on the left here."

"Right, thanks." Flack muttered as he stumbled to his feet.

Mac dragged himself back to his bed and was out before his head hit the pillow.

It was still dark when he opened his eyes again. He stared into the blackness for a few seconds before realizing that something had woken him up. He heard a noise from the hallway and instantly sat up in his bed. Light was shining in under his bedroom door from the hall, which Mac found odd. He usually turned off all the lights.

Then he remembered that Flack was sleeping in the other room. Perhaps Don had left it on, or was out there walking around, and that was what had woken him up. Mac still didn't consider himself in any danger, but found himself slipping his personal Glock from the nightstand by his bed. He padded over to the door and listened again. There was another noise, one he couldn't identify. It was almost like the static of a radio.

Mac pushed the door open and found the hallway empty. He slowly made his way down to the end, the sound growing louder with every step until he reached the bathroom where he was certain the noise was coming from. The door was ajar, but the light was off inside. Mac pushed it open with his gun hand and flipped the light on with the other.

He couldn't help the sound of surprise that escaped his mouth as his eyes were assaulted with the scene before him. Scarlet blood coated the walls, dripped down the mirror. The shower was running, and lying in front of the tub, splayed out on the ground, was Flack- a bullet hole in his forehead.

Mac sat bolt upright, his chest heaving as his heart raced. He was sitting in his bed again. It was still dark. He checked the clock beside his bed and fell back into his pillows, dragging his hands over his face. He'd been asleep for a total of 27 minutes. He lay there for a while as the dream ran through his mind again, and he had to keep reminding himself that that's what it was- a dream. Maybe Mac didn't think he was in danger, but his subconscious sure did. In his sleep deprived and addled state, he blamed in on Stella. Her fears were rubbing off on him.

Mac turned over onto his side to try to fall back asleep when a sound caught his attention. His eyes shot open. It was that same rushing sound… Mac closed his eyes again. _It's Flack taking a shower_, he scolded himself. Still, his heart continued pounding. A soft thud reached his ears and Mac grit his teeth. Embarrassed that he was acting so paranoid, Mac slipped off his bed and after a silent debate with himself, left his gun stashed in his nightstand.

He opened his door and ventured out into the hallway- where the lights were already on- down to the end, and around the corner. The bathroom door was shut. He found himself staring at it while at the time internally berating himself.

The door suddenly swung open and Mac involuntarily stepped backwards into the wall.

"Whoa, hey. Sorry." Flack stood in the doorway, hair wet, towel around his waist.

"No, you're fine." Mac sighed, heat rising to his face as he strode past Flack into his kitchen. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and took another few ibuprofen. He was on his second glass of water when Flack returned, dressed in sweats and a wife beater.

"Mac, you okay?" He asked cautiously.

"Yeah, just a headache." Mac lied without looking at him. His heart was still attempting to slow its pace in his chest. He drained the last of the water and set the glass on the counter.

"Did you get another text?" Flack asked.

Mac almost wished he had. Then he'd have an excuse. "No." He turned and leaned against the counter, finally facing his friend. "Do you need anything?"

Flack shook his head, still eyeing Mac warily. "I'm good."

"Good. I'm gonna go to bed." He brushed past Flack and flipped off the hall light as he went.

Mac spent the next few hours attempting and failing to fall back asleep. The clock read 2am when his eyes finally shut and his body gave into exhaustion.

That's when his phone started vibrating on the nightstand.

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A/N: Let's just assume I'm never happy with what I write until I read it a few months later. And if you're expecting me to stop writing cliffhangers...well, don't. ;)

Anyways, please review. It helps so much and I'm really grateful for your feedback. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I'm so grateful for all your reviews! They're beyond awesome. And yes, Swarovski and I have been trading off between hiding bodies in Central Park. Now its my turn. (Go read her stuff if you haven't!)

This is... I dunno, it's another chapter. Read it.

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"_New roommate?"_ Don stared at the screen in his hands, his eyes drawn to the stark white display. The blinding glow blurred the tiny black letters until he saw nothing but a dark smudge on the screen. Short of going cross-eyed, Don tore his eyes away and looked up at the black shape hunched over in front of him as his eyes adjusted to the darkness again.

Mac was sitting in a well-worn leather arm chair- the only piece of furniture that actually looked lived in in the entire apartment. He sat forward, leaning on his knees, absently running his fingers over the bandage on his right hand while he stared at seemingly nothing. It was the first outward sign that Mac was actually affected by the texts. It made sense; every one before that had been solely about Mac. Now that the killer had dragged someone else into it, he'd crossed a line.

Don could assume this because it wasn't the only text Mac had received that night. In fact it was the fourth sent within the last hour. The others had been just as vague and taunting as the previous messages. They read things like;_ 'Rough case?', 'What, trouble sleeping?' _and _'I told you to rest while you could…'. _ This guy was one cocky, obnoxious bastard for sure. If Don ever got his hands on him, he'd make him pay for screwing with his friend's head and stealing much needed, priceless hours of sleep from the both of them.

Don had been woken up rather unpleasantly sometime around 3am. Of course, he didn't think it was possible to wake up happy before 9, but aside from the obscene hour, opening his eyes to a nearly pitch black room to see someone creeping in through the door definitely qualified as "unpleasant". Luckily, Mac had enough sense to identify himself before Don could finish reaching for his gun. He had tried to tell Don to go back to sleep, that he hadn't meant to wake him. As exhausted as he was, and knowing how little Mac usually slept anyways, Don almost did as he was told- and he would have, if he hadn't caught sight of the Glock Mac was carrying.

The alarms bells going off in his head wouldn't shut up until he'd crawled from under the warm covers and followed Mac back out into the hallway. Don had flipped on the light which, with astonishing speed, Mac immediately shut off again. Knowing he couldn't shrug Don off with a weak excuse after that, Mac had reluctantly invited him into the living room where they now sat, still in the dark except for the light of Mac's phone and what little filtered through the blinds over the windows. It was still raining outside. The drops pelted the glass as the wind rattled the screens, adding to the eerie feeling filling Don's chest.

"He's watching us…" Don said softly, unnecessarily. The significance suddenly hit him like a full speed train. He wished he had grabbed his gun before leaving his room. This guy _knew_ where they were. He was _watching_ them. They had all assumed that the killer had seen Mac before at the crime scenes, but not that he was actively observing him at his _home_. Don silently cursed himself. He was stupid not to have thought of it. "How do you want to handle this?" He asked.

"The lab still has a trace on my phone. They're working it, but chances are he's ditched the phone already. Someone sent a unit anyways. They're searching the area." Mac finally met Don's eyes, his expression unreadable, and not just because of the darkness. He chewed on his lip and let out a short sigh. "This guy is all about observing us." He said. "He's been hands off through this whole thing. He changed his MO just to distance himself from the victim. He hasn't called, he's sent texts. Nothing is a direct threat or clear message. He seems to be getting more brazen, but he's still overly cautious for now. He won't risk revealing himself." He paused to lick his lips and glance at the floor before continuing. "I don't think he poses a direct threat to our safety yet."

Don didn't think he sounded entirely convinced, but how could he? The killer didn't actually fit a typical profile-which was usually more useful than not, but when it came to predicting whether or not Mac's life was in danger, Don didn't want to take any chances. Mac was trying to assume behavior from an incomplete picture of someone who could technically fit into 3 different categories of serial killer.

"Then what is he doing?" Don asked, throwing up his hands as he leaned back into the couch.

Mac shook his head. "He's taunting me, but not offering any real hints as to who he is, to glorify himself, which would suggest he's holding back. Like I said, he's cautious, but he doesn't want me to think he is. I would guess that right now, he doesn't even know what he wants."

Don rubbed his neck, wincing as he found a tender knot that only appeared when he was stressed or lacking sufficient sleep- right now it was both. "That makes him unpredictable, Mac, and therefore dangerous by definition. He _is_ escalating. What happens when he stops holding back altogether?" He countered softly. From Mac's expression, he knew it too.

"Regardless, he's still playing this game for a reason, and as of right now, it's the biggest lead we have. I have to keep going along with it."

"And that involves carrying a gun around your apartment?" Don asked nodded toward the Glock poking out of the waistband of Mac's sweats.

Mac's head dipped for a moment, hiding his reaction. "He's challenging me, Don. Cautious or not, he's daring me to keep investigating this. If it wasn't me, it would be Stella, or you, or whoever else ended up in charge. He wants to show he's in control, challenge my authority… I can't let him win."

Don hesitated as he studied his friend. "Mac, you gotta stop calling this thing a game. It's your life."

"Not just mine!" Mac snapped, and Don nearly jumped despite the fact that Mac's voice remained almost a whisper. "Young women are dying, Flack. There's a kid out there without a mother. It's them I'm worried about."

"So, what then? You're bait? You just said it- if you keep investigating this, taking him up on that "dare", there _will_ be consequences. He _will_ retaliate eventually." Don shrugged hopelessly. "You think I'm okay with letting you do that? You think _Stella_ is okay with that?"

Mac stared back at him, his face a mask again. "It's not up to you." He said flatly. "He picked me. He singled me out. _This _is our best chance." Mac dropped his gaze, continuing to absently pick at the gauze around his hand. "I will do this without you, Flack. Please don't make me."

Don heaved a heavy sigh and ran a hand over his eyes. "Of course I won't. It's just…" He shook his head and dropped his hand. "You're still freaking me out here, putting yourself out there. I didn't push you for a better answer yesterday about what's going on with you, and maybe I let you off too easy. I've been trying to let you handle this on your own out of respect, and I'm thinking I made a mistake."

To Don's surprise, Mac smiled. "I'm not looking to die here, Flack." He pulled the Glock out to emphasize his point. "This isn't some stunt." Mac frowned and locked eyes with his friend again. "All I want to do is solve this case."

_And maybe that's your problem_. Flack didn't say it out loud. He wished he had. He could have at least brought up the possibility that the killer would now target Don or Stella, just to get at Mac. He didn't, solely because he was afraid it would cause Mac to isolate himself even more. For now, he was still asking for help and open to discuss the situation. If Mac thought distancing himself from the team would keep them safe, he would do it. Then Mac would really be in trouble.

The search turned up empty, but the unit stayed parked out front. Flack would have felt better if they had switched locations, but Mac insisted they stay- perhaps out of pride, or defiance to the killer. It was 4am when Flack crawled back into bed and 5am when he finally managed to fall back asleep.

It was 6:52am when they got the call.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

The sky was still obscured by thick black clouds, though the rain had stopped for the time being. The occasional stiff breeze still rolled through the trees, rustling the newly fallen red and yellow leaves on the ground and creating small, white-capped waves on the lake nearby.

Don popped the collar of his not-yet-completely-dry coat and carefully climbed down the steps of an old wooden gazebo situated between an asphalt pathway on one side and a man-made lake on the other. Mac observed from the walkway, setting down his kit before moving closer. Sprawled across the steps was a woman with short brown hair, a bullet hole in her forehead and a second one in her clearly pregnant abdomen. Unlike the previous two scenes, there was an excess of blood, and probably brain matter, coating the wood surface the vic was lying on. It mixed with the puddles of rain water and dripped off the steps into the mud.

With a sigh a shake of his head, Mac started to snap photographs of the scene while Don questioned the witnesses and officers.

By the time Mac had finished, Don was walking up beside him. "Alright, here's what I got. Central Park police responded to the sound of two gun shots and found our vic lying here. They claim it took them no more than two minutes to find the body, but nobody was around when they got here. They say they didn't touch the vic and immediately closed off the scene. That was about thirty minutes ago. We got uniforms swarming the place, a K-9 unit on the way and we've set up a perimeter around the park."

Mac crouched next to the body as he fought to pull a glove on over his left hand with his very near uncooperative right. He didn't bother trying to wrestle another one onto the bandaged hand. It wouldn't be of much use anyways. The cold morning had left the lacerated limb, as well as his bruised body, stiff and aching.

Mac reached first for the vic's wrist where he spotted a chain bracelet. Attached to it was a small metal plaque, like a military dog tag, engraved with a name, address, and even blood type. He held it up for Flack to see. "At least we won't have to search missing persons for this one."

Don craned his head to get a look at it. "I've seen those before, mostly on cyclists. They don't want to carry a wallet when they go riding, but want to be identified in case of an accident."

Mac looked over the vic- Danielle Vance according to the bracelet- and noted her athletic attire. "She's built like a cyclist. She probably switched to walking for exercise during the pregnancy." Mac never understood why women would still walk alone in Central Park. Granted it wasn't the middle of the night, but early morning, when the sun still hadn't fully risen, could be just as dangerous. He turned the wrist over. "There's bruising here. She didn't go down easy. There could be trace under her nails, and maybe in the bracelet." He quickly bagged it. "There's no ring, but I do have a tan line where one was."

"Finger's got too fat, probably." Don suggested. Mac looked up at him and smirked. "What?"

"Nothing," he shrugged, "I just wonder if you talk to your girlfriends like that."

"Not to their face." Don said seriously, but then he grinned.

Mac shook his head as he smiled. Nothing else sticking out to him, he forced himself to his feet, grimacing as his body ached in protest.

"How you feelin'?" Don asked him.

"Sore, but I'm good." Mac admitted. His eyes scanned the ground. "Stippling pattern and powder burns suggests it was a close shot. No drag marks, so he didn't move the body. That would put our shooter right…here." Mac looked down and saw a clear set of footprints in the mud, leading away from the body and back toward the sidewalk. On shining his flashlight over the area he also spotted something gold glinting in the muck. He crouched down and gently nudged it, revealing a bullet casing. A little further inspection found the second one nearby.

"Hawkes." Don suddenly called. "Careful where you step, man."

Mac turned his head to see Sheldon approaching, now very slowly as he closely examined each patch of dirt before he took another step.

"Where do you want me, Mac?" Hawkes asked.

"Work on casting these footprints. Make sure you document the process- before and after. You know the drill. Be quick about it." He added, with a look up at the swirling clouds above them.

"You got it." Sheldon nodded eagerly.

Mac normally would have kept half an eye on him, but the fact was, Hawkes had adjusted to his role of CSI very well and didn't really need much supervision from anyone. Besides, Mac needed all his attention on preparing the body for transport before it started raining again, and with one hand stubbornly resisting simple commands from his brain, it took much more effort than usual. Mac could see Don out of the corner of his eye as the younger detective stood back, watching Mac, occasionally taking a half step forward and then back again as he debated whether or not to help him.

Since their discussion in the early morning hours, Don had been a little bit awkward around Mac, almost cautious. Mac figured it had to do with his determination to stay on the case, which apparently caused Flack to think that Mac had no regard for his own life. He had been the same way after running into Mac at a bar a couple weeks before.

Mac would find it amusing if it weren't also slightly insulting.

The coroner arrived just as the first light drops started falling. One landed on Mac's cheek as he looked up, "Flack, give me a hand." Don nearly leapt forward and slipped on the gloves Mac held out to him before he helped the two coroner's assistants load the body into a bag on the stretcher.

"How's it coming, Hawkes?"

"All set!" The former ME called as he pried the casts from the ground and carefully stored them in waterproof containers.

The rain was falling harder now, the larger drops becoming swept up in the wind as they angled harshly toward the ground. The two CSIs rushed to make sure they had everything documented and photographed before it washed away in the coming deluge. Soaking wet, but satisfied they'd done all they could, Mac, Sheldon and Don tried to find sufficient cover in their jackets as they retreated back to the cars. They had to slip through several police barriers on their way. Officers were still searching the area as they walked by. K-9s were attempting to shake the water from of their fur as their handlers corralled them back into their vehicles.

The killer had gotten away again. Mac would have heard it by now if they had found anyone. The damn weather was turning out to be this guy's best ally. With his hands in his pockets, Mac found himself lightly touching his cell phone. A chill ran up his spine that he didn't think had anything to do with the cold. He eyes warily scanned the trees on either side of the path before he quickly shook his head and looked forward again. He kept saying he didn't think the killer was a threat to him, and yet subconsciously, he was acting like he did.

Mac glanced at the men walking on either side of him and realized Don was vigilantly scanning the area as well, despite the heavy police presence around them. Mac wasn't sure what exactly Don thought of being mentioned in a text. In their discussion hours before, he hadn't brought it up except to say they were being watched. Mac had assumed as much. He hadn't quite expected the killer to follow him to his home, of course. That and mentioning someone other than himself had served to convince Mac that this killer was much more engaged in this little game than he had previously thought. Initially he figured it was the killer boasting just to piss him off-A 'catch me if you can' sort of mentality.

Now? Mac didn't know what to think. He couldn't be sure if this guy was the type to just want to scare Mac off the case or if he really intended to cause him harm. He would guess the former. A coward who shot defenseless women and their unborn children wouldn't have the guts to face Mac…but the closer Mac got to figuring out his identity, the more desperate the killer would get. Desperate people did drastic things.

Mac climbed into Flack's car, closing out the rain, but water still dripped down into his face from his hair. Don climbed in beside him and gave a shudder, shaking off the water droplets clinging to his dark locks. "What do you think?" He asked after a few seconds of silence.

Mac shook his head and ran his fingers through the wet and consequently extremely curly tresses of his hair. "He's getting careless. Hopefully he slipped up and we'll find something at the lab." In front of them, Sheldon slid his case into the bed of the Avalanche and slammed the tail shut before running around to the driver's side door and diving inside.

"You should have him check your hand again."

"It's fine." Mac said automatically. At Don's resulting look of disbelief, he sighed and nodded. "Yeah, alright."

As soon as they pulled out onto the street, Mac called ahead to the lab and sent Stella and Lindsay to the latest vic's house. There were obvious reasons for the sake of the investigation, but in a selfish way, Mac also didn't want to talk to Stella about the night before for as long as possible. She knew when he hadn't slept, and that would cause her concern on a normal day. Today? ... He just didn't want to deal with it- and he didn't want her to deal with it.

If she thought Don was now in danger as well she probably wouldn't let the either of them out of the lab. Then he'd be stuck with Don, who thought he was suicidal, and Stella, who thought he was helpless, and all the while, their killer would be slipping away. It wasn't that Mac didn't appreciate the concern of his friends. He would have felt the same way if they were in his position, which was exactly why he was doing what he was. He didn't _want_ them to be in his position, which would be what happened if they pulled him off.

Mac rubbed his eyes, now burning with lack of sleep. He could partially blame his attitude on his exhaustion, but not much more than that. Mac settled back in his seat as his eyes automatically slid shut. Almost immediately, they snapped open again. If Mac didn't know better, he would say that there was some sort of alarm system rigging him to his phone and setting it to go off any time he got close to falling asleep. He wearily pulled the phone from his pocket and was allowed a brief moment of relief as he realized it wasn't a text.

"Taylor."

"_Be careful out there today."_

A cold hand suddenly closed its grip around Mac's chest. The voice was low and distorted. "Who is this?" He asked in a tone that caused Don to look over in concern.

"_You look tired… Why don't you call me the sandman?"_

"What do you want?" Mac demanded.

There was silence for a few seconds. _"Like I said, be careful."_

The line went dead.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

A/N: Yeah...so there it is. Review please! I appreciate any feedback I can get and I love to talk to you guys. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Again, sorry for the long wait! I'm graduating next Thursday and the last week has been full of all the studying I never did in all my years in college. To top it off, this chapter was insanely difficult to write, so now I feel like i forced it! Argh.

Also, poor Gary! Thoughts with him and quick recovery. Glad he's okay.

OOPS! uploaded the wrong thing...if you read this early...forget the last part. That was supposed to be deleted. It's fixed now. Read on!

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Looks like something out of _A Beautiful Mind_." Don drawled as he rocked back in his chair, stopping just short of putting his feet up on the conference table.

Mac surveyed the white boards where almost every space that wasn't covered with crime scene photos contained his nearly illegible scrawl. "That's just what I need; to find out that this guy is actually in my head and all of this is a schizophrenic break." He stepped forward and flattened out a piece of tape attached to a photo of the third vic. "Might actually be a relief." He added under his breath.

"Nah." Don shook his head. "That would probably mean you're the killer too."

"Not necessarily…Could be you." Mac was uncapping a marker to add another note to the board when he suddenly hissed in pain. The marker clattered to the floor as Mac shook out his hand. "Dammit…" He muttered.

Don rolled forward in his chair and leaned down to scoop up the marker for him. "Ready to call in Sheldon yet?" He asked. Mac reached out to take it back, but Don held the marker at bay, keeping it hostage until he got an answer.

Mac continued to hold out his hand, trying to stare Don into submission. "He's working trace. It's a little more important right now."

Don shook his head, wearing a smug smile. "I just saw him in the break room two minutes ago… He ate the last donut," He added icily as his stomach gave another rumble. "Trust me, he won't mind. I'll go get him." Before Mac could offer a protest, Flack swung out of the chair and strode quickly from the conference room, shoving the marker into his pocket as he went and leaving Mac staring after him with barely concealed frustration.

It had been two hours since Mac had received the call from…whoever it was. If Mac was more affected by it than the texts, he didn't show it. At this point, Don didn't know what it would take for Mac to get it through his skull that this guy was dangerous. Don, on the other hand, just took it as another sign of how this guy was escalating again. He was taking more risks, killing in daylight, stalking Mac, calling him up on the phone. The next logical step would be meeting him in person. Normally, Don didn't envy anyone who picked a fight with Mac. While he seemed physically unassuming, Don was quite certain Mac had the ability to snap his neck in two seconds. He'd seen the CSI drop bouncers doing their best impersonations of Hulk Hogan in the blink of an eye. Unfortunately, with his hand, and complete lack of sleep for the last 30 hours, Don was doubting Mac's ability to so effectively defend himself. He was grateful he'd gotten Mac to agree to have him stick around. At least if something did happen, he would have backup.

Don's thought process was interrupted as he spotted Hawkes leaving the break room just ahead of him, brushing the sugar of the last donut from his fingers. "Hey, Doc."

Sheldon turned and on spotting Don, held up his hands in mock defense. "I'm sorry I ate it. I didn't know you wanted one. The vending machines are down that hall if you're really hungry." He pointed back behind Don with a smirk.

"Good to know, but not what I was gonna say. But, since we're on the subject, do you have any quarters?" He smiled to himself as Sheldon actually started digging through his pockets with a defeated roll of his eyes. "What I came to ask was if you would take a look at Mac's hand. He's in the conference room."

"Yeah, of course." Hawkes held out the three quarters he'd found. "That's all I got."

"Good enough." Don grinned, taking the coins and immediately stuffing them into his own pocket.

"I noticed at the crime scene he wasn't using his hand at all." Sheldon continued with a frown. "He didn't end up going to the hospital, did he?"

"Nope, but did you really expect him to? If you want Mac to take care of himself, you can't give him the option out, Hawkes. Next time, tell him if he doesn't go to the hospital, he risks losing the hand or something."

Hawkes nodded and tilted his head, looking like he was seriously considering Don's suggestion. "Yeah, alright. Thanks for the heads up."

"Sure thing- Hold on. Vending machines were-?" Sheldon pointed him in the right direction and Don took off down the hallway, feeling like he'd just stolen lunch money, but at the same time feeling justified in doing it.

As his mind wandered back away from food, Don found himself secretly hoping something was wrong enough with Mac to require a trip to the hospital. It wasn't that he wanted his friend hurt, far from it, but it might just be the only thing that would get Mac to drop the case for just a few hours to tend to his own needs. Don slowed his steps briefly as he considered bribing Sheldon with the 75 cents he'd just received to tell Mac he had to go to the hospital, but decided against it—or rather, his stomach decided for him. The doc probably wasn't that cheap anyways.

With two granola bars and a cup of coffee in hand, Don made his way back to the conference room, but just as he was just passing the AV lab, Adam, his head down, eyes fixed on the floor, shuffled out of the lab and collided with him.

Adam immediately backpedalled, his hands up as if to ward off a retaliatory attack. "Oh, crap. I am _so_ sorry, Detective Flack." He sputtered.

Don shrugged it off, just grateful that he hadn't dropped his coffee. "Calm down, Ross. It's fine." He assured the tech as he checked himself over to make sure none of the coffee had gotten onto his shirt. He was sure it hadn't touched his skin as he didn't feel like his flesh was melting. The coffee was boiling hot, which Don assumed was probably a deliberate ploy by the vending machine manufacturer to completely scald customers' tongues to the point of destroying every last taste bud, thereby masking the horrible flavor. Satisfied that he was unscathed by the incident, Don noticed the tech was still staring at him warily. "What were you up to? You find anything?"

Still recovering from apparent shock, Adam just blinked at him until he suddenly snapped out of it. "Um, yes, and no. Um…" He quickly looked down both ends of the hallway and suddenly grabbed Flack's arm, pulling him into the AV lab. Adam quickly let go and turned back to the detective.

Don studied the nervous tech in front of him. He was wringing his hands and kept looking back down the hall, as if waiting for someone to come after him. "Spit it out, Ross. What's going on?"

"Ok, so here's the thing…" Adam hurried to a computer and his fingers flew over the keys, bringing up a folder full of files. "I was going through Danielle Vance's phone- she's-she's the last vic." Adam said, turning back to Flack to make sure he understood.

"I know." Flack said, impatiently waving his hand for Adam to continue.

"Right, right, well, um… I was looking at recent calls and texts and didn't come up with anything that stuck out, but then I went through her applications." The tech seemed less nervous as he grew more comfortable with the technical topic. At the same time, Don just got more and more lost. "There's a note taking app. It also keeps track of when the note was updated. This last one was updated just a few hours before the body was found at about 4am. It contains a few links…"

"What are you getting at?" Don finally asked.

Adam bit his lip as scrolled through the list of files until he found the one he was looking for. The pointer hung over the file as the tech hesitated for a moment. Then he clicked twice, bringing up a new image on the monitor. A series of hyperlinks dominated the page.

"What are they?"

Adam glanced back at Don, and then clicked on each link, waiting a few seconds to let the resulting image sink in before moving on to the next. With each new picture that flashed across the screen, Don's eyes grew wider.

"Son of a bitch…"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Well it's not infected, but the swelling isn't a good sign. Why didn't you go to the hospital?"

Mac let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding as Hawkes finally let go of the purple and red mass of flesh that had once been recognizable as a hand. Mac would freely admit that the limb had been bothering him before, but now it was just downright painful. "Didn't have time, like I still don't have time right now." Mac explained in a clipped tone as he started to rewrap the bandages around his hand.

"Hold on, I should splint it for you. It'll help decrease the pain and keep it from getting worse until you _find_ time." Hawkes frowned as he leaned back in his chair and shrugged his shoulders hopelessly. "It's been over 12 hours, so stiches are out of the question, but you should still clean it and icing it won't hurt either."

Sheldon made Mac feel like disregarding medical advice was a personal slight to the former ME. He didn't mean it to be. He just really couldn't afford to waste time. Mac blew out a breath as he paused in balling up the old bandages. "It's plenty cold outside, does that count?" He smirked.

Sheldon smiled, "Not quite. I'm going down to meet up with Sid, and then I'll see if we can throw a splint together for you. In the meantime, put a clean bandage on there and don't use it."

Mac nodded. "Thanks, Hawkes."

The door suddenly swung open as Flack stepped inside the conference room. "Mac, you need to see this."

The slight flush to his cheeks and wild eyes were all the prompting Mac needed. He glanced at Sheldon and immediately rose from his seat and followed Don down the hall into the AV lab where Adam was nervously spinning back and forth in his chair. When he saw Mac enter, he immediately stopped and sat up a little straighter. "What did you find?" Mac asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he took up a spot behind Adam.

The tech spun back around to his computer and instead of explaining himself like he had to Don, Adam started straight in with the pictures.

Mac's facial expression faltered for only a brief second, but he could feel his heart pounding from somewhere near his stomach. The fingers of his crossed arms dug into his flesh as he fought to keep his composure. His breathing unconsciously quickened. His eyes were transfixed on the screen and not even the twinging of his injured hand could get him to stop.

Displayed on the glowing monitor was a picture of Mac and Don arriving at his apartment the night before, but that wasn't the most disturbing shot. It was the pictures following that. The next one was of something Mac had seen many times before, every time he entered his apartment, in fact, because it was his own living room. The next image was of his bedroom, followed by more interior shots of various spots in his apartment, and a few more of Mac and Don as they arrived at the lab.

"Where did you get these?" Mac asked, finding his voice low and rough.

Don, wearing a grim look on his face, stepped forward. "They were found on the vic's phone, put there about two hours before she was killed."

Mac shook his head in confusion. "We didn't find a phone with the vic."

"Stella brought it in half an hour ago. I assume the husband gave it to her." Adam explained.

"Stella isn't back yet." Mac snapped, quickly getting over his shock as the rage started to set in. "Where did you get it?"

The color instantly drained from Adam's face as he stared up at Mac, open mouthed as he tried to form words.

Mac stepped forward suddenly, his arms coming uncrossed as he slammed his hands onto the table. "Where did you get the phone, Adam?" He barked.

"M-Maggie."

"Who's Maggie?" Don asked, stepping in as Mac continued to bear down on the quivering tech.

"Another tech. She told me Stella brought her the phone. I believed her."

"Where is she now?" Mac demanded, but as soon as Adam started to answer, he interrupted him, "Forget it, just show me where she is."

Adam nearly tripped over himself in his haste to vacate his seat. He stumbled into the hallway, daring to look back only once to make sure Mac was following him.

Maggie turned out to be the most unassuming looking human being Mac had ever seen. She was a petite brunette with soft features that made her look about 12. It was her first week on the job. When Adam asked her to come out into the hallway and talk to Mac, she put on a nervous smile and gave a quiet "hi" in greeting as her eyes darted nervously between the two detectives.

The plans Mac had of ripping apart whatever tech he found responsible fizzled and died, but the anger remained, making his questions sound clipped and accusatory. He didn't think Maggie could shrink any smaller. If he decided not to fire her, he was quite certain she would quit. Looking back on it later, he wouldn't have blamed her.

"Who gave you the phone?"

"A guy, in the elevator. He got in, but jumped out again, saying he'd forgotten something, but he needed to get the phone up to the lab and asked if I wouldn't mind taking it for him. He told me Det. Bonasera gave it to him." It wasn't hard to see that Maggie was fighting just to maintain her composure.

"What did he look like?"

"Um…I-I don't know. He was still wearing his jacket and had his hood up. He might have been early thirties I guess?"

"You guess?" Mac spat, "A guy asks you to break the chain of custody, and you didn't get a good look at him?"

"Mac." Don said softly, turning away from the tech and lightly grabbing his friend's arm. "Come on." Mac resisted briefly, but Don's grip never lessened and he gave him, letting Flack lead him back down the hall. He didn't let go until they reach Mac's office.

Mac sunk down onto his couch, attempting to return his heartbeat to its normal rhythm as Don went back out into the hallway for about a minute before coming back in. He sat down on the coffee table in front of Mac, leaning his elbows on his knees. Mac kept his head down, wouldn't meet his eyes. He hand throbbed almost unbearably- smacking it into a table hadn't been a very bright idea—but he welcomed the pain. It brought him back to his senses.

The guy had been in his lab, his _apartment. _Mac couldn't fight the reality of the situation anymore. Ignoring the killer was just pissing him off. He wanted Mac to notice him, to know he was there, watching him. He wanted Mac to feel like he was losing control, like there was nothing he could do. What was that anecdote about the frogs in a pan? Drop them in boiling water and they'll jump right out, but put them in when it's cold and slowly turn up the heat? By the time they notice, it's too late. They're dead.

This killer had been turning up the heat, ratcheting up the stakes with every contact, and Mac had refused to notice. Now he was slowly being torn from the inside out with this guys mind games. Mac shook his head. There was a way out… it was catching this guy. He had to. He couldn't let him win.

"We'll get her with a sketch artist." Don was saying, twisting the white board marker between his fingers. Mac was half-listening, but stopped paying attention completely as a thought sparked in his brain. "Adam is already checking the security footage from the lobby… We should get a team to your apartment. Maybe he left something we didn't see. He could have touched something-."

"How did he get the phone?" Mac suddenly muttered to himself.

"Huh?"

"It's not the vic's, not unless he broke into her apartment at 4am when she was sleeping and stole it. The phone belongs to someone else. If there's one thing we haven't found with any of the vics, it's a phone."

"O-kay." Don said slowly. "So what are you saying? This phone belongs to another vic? One of the first two?"

Mac looked up. "Or a new one." He quickly got to his feet and strode across the hall into the AV lab. "Adam."

The tech jumped and fumbled to right the can of soda he'd bumped. He then quickly tried to hide the can as he realized it wasn't allowed in the lab… "I'm still bringing up the program. I haven't even had a chance to look at footage yet-."

"Forget the tapes for now. Aside from the pictures, what else did you find on that phone?"

Adam calmed almost immediately. Mac wasn't yelling anymore and was actually acting quite close to his normal self. "Um, regular phone calls, texts. Nothing jumped out at me except that note. I haven't really dug into the other parts yet."

Mac spotted the elevators open out of the corner of his eye and watched as two women stepped out onto the floor. "Get on it." He said, turning back to Adam. "Call the phone company, find out who this phone belongs to. Put someone else on the surveillance tapes."

Adam nodded immediately. "Right away, Boss."

Mac walked through the side door of the lab and intercepted Stella and Lindsay as they came up the steps. "Did you find anything?"

Stella shook her head. "The husband said he hasn't seen anyone sticking around and his wife never mentioned anything about being followed. She left at 6am like she did every morning and that was that."

"She was 5 months pregnant." Lindsay added, looking drained from the experience. Mac paused briefly as he gave her a small, reassuring smile. Lindsay returned it and then frowned. "Mac, what happened to your hand?"

Mac looked down to see a small trickle of blood trailing down his fingers. "It's nothing. Hawkes already looked at it." He explained quickly, shoving the hand back into his pocket as he ignored Stella's raised eyebrow. "Did the husband say anything about his wife's phone?"

Stella glanced at Lindsay who shrugged and shook her head. "I think he said she takes it with her when she goes running. It's the only way he lets her go alone."

An almost smug look crossed Mac's face and Stella looked at him in confusion. "Why? What's the cell phone have to do with it?"

"I don't know yet." Mac spun on his heel and was by Adam's side only a few seconds later. "I need you to put a trace on our second and third vic's cell phones."

"Sure thing, and I just got off the phone with the service provider. They say the owner of this phone is named Jaycie Carlson."

Mac pulled up a chair beside him, "You run it through the DMV?"

"Just about to." Adam nodded, bringing up the necessary application. With a few swift key strokes, the search was running. It only took a few seconds to come up with the sole match. A picture of a young, smiling woman with short brown hair looked back at them from the screen. "That's not your first, second, or third vic…"

Mac's jaw clenched as his heart plummeted. "No. We got another body out there."

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A/N: Could really use some feedback about now... Thanks for reading! Please review!


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you for your reviews! I'm graduated! And then I moved and I'm looking for jobs, so busy, but in fact not really. Anyways... The reason this took so long is I was fighting with myself whether or not to include the last section in this update, because I'm really very iffy on it. I hate messing with cannon and drama for the sake of drama, and I don't think this is, but everyone else might...and even though I'm determined to leave it in because it just made this work, I'm still going to hate it and regret doing it. Please hold your rotten tomatoes until after I have the chance to run away. ...k go.

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Mac wearily rubbed his eyes, almost massaging them with the fingers of his left hand. He dug deep into the sockets as if pressing harder would erase the exhaustion. His fingers continued their kneading at the risk of damaging his eyes until his vision was completely taken over by a sea of swirling multicolored dots, even with his eyes closed. Mac finally dropped his hand from his face, just to find himself staring at his fingers as the color splotches faded from his sight. He slowly rubbed the tips of his fingers together as he watched in a kind of subconscious fascination, and for a brief moment considered that if he had ever taken hallucinogens, the outcome would have felt something like this.

The hand that seemed to be holding his easily amused brain spellbound was about the only part of him still functioning as it was intended to. His body still ached dully from his fall the day before, especially his knee which had turned a sort of ugly hue of purple and green. It had started as a minor annoyance—a bruise- and nothing more, but as the hours wore on, "minor annoyances" were becoming more and more obnoxious, bordering on distracting. With an internal scoff, Mac realized he could say the same thing about his colleagues. Luckily his clothing prevented Hawkes from seeing the rest of his bruised body, or he'd probably end up tied to a hospital bed at Stella's request. The former ME was at that moment tending to another defective limb: his ever worsening right hand.

Mac was semi-coherently contemplating cutting the thing off. Hawkes was actually warning him that if he kept "this" up, he might actually end up doing just that- whatever "this" was. Mac didn't have to wonder for long as Stella jumped right in with her interpretation of his actions over the past few days. Mac didn't remember his ears being damaged, but they too seemed to be malfunctioning as none of the signals they received actually made it to his brain to be processed. It was all a bunch of noise that through pitch and volume alone, Mac could probably decipher her chastisement word for word. As it was, he just decided to sit and pretend to listen, nodding occasionally, but not having the energy to comprehend anything beyond the fact that Stella was pissed and he didn't care.

Which lead to the next malfunctioning body part- his brain. Even as he was thinking everything, Mac knew it was wrong. He normally didn't silently disparage his employees or find his own fingerprints so inexplicably captivating. Yet it was happening and he lacked the energy, or will, to stop it. In fact, he found it rather comical. Stella was pacing and throwing her hands in the air while Hawkes pretended not to be there, only serving to make the situation even more awkward. He hunched down and constantly shifted as Stella moved around the room so he was never directly between her and Mac. It was almost as if he expected her to charge at Mac at any second and he didn't want to risk being collateral.

A smile must have made it to Mac's face, because Stella's voice finally broke through the barrier between his ears and his brain. "You think I'm kidding, Mac?" She snapped, her tone seeming to flip the switch that triggered the return of at least some level of coherent functioning.

"No, I think you're overreacting." Mac drawled in a way that either indicated he was unaffected by her arguments, or that he had had one too many drinks. He knew it wasn't the latter. He hadn't even had time for a coffee that morning, let alone alcohol. Though a drink was sounding like an excellent idea. Maybe he'd take Don up on that offer from earlier. Had that only been yesterday? It seemed like weeks…

"Since Hawkes is splinting what looks like a broken hand, I'm going to say the level of my reaction is perfectly proportional, and could do to be upped a few notches, in fact—would you stop staring at your hand like that?" Stella added in a clipped tone that reflected both her annoyance and concern over Mac's behavior.

Mac curled his fingers into a fist briefly before relaxing them and finally meeting the eyes of his enraged partner. Whatever confused and dissociated state his mind had slipped into was broken by her startling green eyes, full of emotion-not anger- and all because of him. Stella had always had a way of dragging him back to reality, as cruel and unappealing as it was. His rapidly reemerging headache welcoming him back to the land of the functioning made it hard to appreciate that about her at the moment. "I don't understand what you expect me to do." He said, only a slight slur to his words now.

"Oh, I expect you to do exactly what you are, which is ignoring everything wrong with you. What I wish you would do is take a step back and realize you aren't helping anyone by going the way you are—not you, not Don, and certainly not those dead girls."

And with that, any last vestiges of amusement with the situation flew out the window and splattered onto the pavement 35 floors down. Mac's eyebrows drew together as his eyes narrowed. He wanted to snap at her, and if he had even a just a tiny bit less of his already lacking self-control, he would have. Instead, he found it sufficient just to glare at her.

"Don't give me that look. You know I'm right- Actually, no, I don't think you do, but I am."

"How is keeping me from investigating a lead with Flack supposed to help them?" He growled.

"Have you looked at yourself? Mac, you're exhausted. You can barely keep your head up. This guy is stalking you… You're going to slip, and you're going to get hurt- again. More this time. Maybe irreparably."

"I figured out the phone." Mac shot back.

"Which was great. Now let Don handle it. He and Danny are perfectly capable. Don't you trust them?"

Mac rolled his eyes. "You know I do. It's not them."

"It's not selfish to back off for a few hours, Mac. Everyone is on this."

"It's not really up to me whether or not I'm involved in this, Stella. I'd rather it be on my terms."

"Haven't you considered that if you just stopped, he would leave you alone?"

"Of course," Mac scoffed, "because that's what he wants. I'm not going to give him that."

"And if you're just falling into his hands by keeping this up?" She asked, one eyebrow raised as she glowered down at him. "What if all he wants is for you to keep "playing" this game?"

"Well, then, I guess I'm screwed either way. Aren't I?" Mac explained calmly. "In which case we need to forget about what he's doing with me and focus on his targets."

"And maybe you can do that, Mac, but I can't." Stella said softly.

Mac stared back at her, but could only hold her gaze for a few seconds. Her eyes were getting to him again and he had to look away, glancing back at his right hand as Sheldon finished securing the bandage around his arm. The splint underneath it would keep him from bending his wrist in any way and partially immobilized his fingers as well. The elastic bandage was uncomfortable and the splint almost painful, but pride and a desire not to be sidelined kept him from saying anything. "You done?" Mac asked him quietly.

Sheldon nodded and sat back on the glass coffee table in front of him. "Stella's right. The swelling, discoloration, limited range of motion, and excessive pain all suggest that your hand could be broken." Mac bit back the groan threatening to escape him. _That's just what he needed._ "It wasn't this bad yesterday. Did you do something else to it?"

Mac actually had to think hard about that one. The last 48 hours were one long and incoherent blur. "I tackled a suspect."

Hawkes blew out a short breath. "Well, I can't say anything definitive without an x-ray, and the laceration complicates matters, but I would bet you that hand is broken. I'm going to be blunt and tell you that this injury possibly requires surgery."

"Surgery?" Stella asked, sounding surprised herself, though she had been the one recently insisting that Mac drop the case and check himself into a hospital.

"Nothing serious. It's mostly to ensure proper healing to return full functioning."

"Isn't surgery the exception, not the rule?" Mac retorted, rather proud of himself for sounding so informed when he recently considered his own fingerprints to the eighth world wonder.

Sheldon winced at being called on his bluff. "To a point, yes… but that doesn't mean you should delay a proper examination. Infection is still a huge risk that should be handled in a hospital. It's already been a full day."

"It hasn't happened yet." Mac shrugged.

"No, but the wound isn't entirely closed and… well, frankly, the longer you go without proper rest, the more your immune system suffers and the less able your body is to fight off what's already there. I did my best to clean it, but wounds like that suck in contaminants and it's impossible for me to do a thorough enough job here."

"Thank you, Hawkes." Mac nodded, with a tight, polite smile, but Hawkes caught the dismissive tone and took it as his cue to exit. He grabbed up his medical kit and made a hasty retreat, leaving Mac and Stella alone in his office.

"So, should I drive?"

"Where exactly?" Mac asked, leaning back into his couch as he looked innocently up at his partner.

"A hospital."

Mac shook his head. "I was thinking more along the lines of my apartment."

Stella eyed him cautiously, wary of a trap. "Why, so you can actually get some sleep? I'm all for that, but not at your place. Not after we know he has access to it."

"Exactly. I need to know how he got in. Now I know he's been there, maybe he left something—another hint, or even evidence." When Stella didn't object right away, Mac knew he had her.

"I thought you said not to focus on what he was doing to you." She said in a half-hearted effort to divert the conversation back into her court. He had the high ground here. His apartment had to be processed no matter what.

"I'm not. If he left anything behind, it could lead us to him, or this other victim."

"I'll go with Lindsay then. You really shouldn't process your own apartment."

"She's never been there. How would she know what to look for? You know you need me there. I won't collect anything myself, but if anything is out of place, I'm the most likely to find it." Stella hesitated again. "Do this one thing for me and I give you my word I will get my hand checked out… I've never lied to you, Stel." He added, looking her in the eyes.

She sighed, "Maybe not, but you tend to omit things, which is almost worse…" Stella paused again. "Fine. We process your apartment and then you get to a hospital." Mac nodded. "Alright," She blew out a breath, looking like she regretted it even as she said the words. "Let's go."

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"What did Adam say?"

Danny stashed his phone back into his pocket. "Mom and Dad are still fighting."

Don smirked as he shifted his grip on the steering wheel and flipped on his turn signal. "And probably will be until we get back."

"Also, the owner of the phone has been working as a freelance photographer, but recently found steady employment with a non-profit organization based on preserving New York's natural habitat or something."

"What about family or other contacts?"

"No family in state. Adam hasn't gotten a hold of them yet. However, her boss hasn't heard from her in a few days."

"Roommates?"

"Still working on that."

There was silence for a few minutes as they drove along the highway. It was a different kind of silence than the ones that had prevailed when Mac had been in Danny's seat. Those had been awkward, tension-filled and highly uncomfortable. Danny and Don had always had an easy-going friendship. They went to bars together, talked about girlfriends or lack thereof and teased each other to the point that those who didn't know them seriously thought they despised one another.

As the minutes wore on, however, Don could tell Danny wanted to say something. It was a rare moment when the two discussed anything of a serious nature unless it was arguing over who would make the playoffs. When they did, it was quiet, dealt with quickly and left behind them, all the while being treated like it was really nothing of importance at all.

"So you were with Mac last night?" Danny finally asked in a forced casual tone.

Don nodded. "Yep."

"He doin' okay?"

"He's hangin' in there." Don nodded.

"You worried?"

Don finally cast a sideways glance at him, briefly taking his eyes off the road. "About me?"

Danny shrugged, "This guy did mention you. Stella didn't even want you out here."

Don almost rolled his eyes as he let out a breath. "Look, I'm not brushing this off like Mac has been, but Stella's going a little overboard. This guy wants to psych Mac out, and he mentioned me. He doesn't actually want anything to do with me."

"The guy _is_ a serial killer. I don't think he'd be above using you to shake things up, you know?"

"In which case any of you are as likely a target as I am. I only got singled out because I was with him at the time."

"Doesn't make you much of a body guard when you become a target." Danny scoffed.

"You want to give it a shot?" Don said, raising his eyebrows challengingly as he turned to look at him.

"Nah, I like my head on my shoulders. Besides, Mac doesn't have nearly as much patience for me as he does you. Who's gonna be _my_ body guard when he snaps?"

"That's because you can't keep your mouth shut." Don smirked. "You'd make the perfect body guard. The killer couldn't possibly you use against Mac if he thought you hated each other."

"Ha, ha. That's funny." Danny said wryly. "It's not happening. I heard Stella was thinking about calling in a unit to be on you guys full time."

"Why is it 'you guys'?" Don groaned. "He's not after me."

"You want to take the chance that he isn't? I mean, okay, he's probably not, but say he is. Do you really want to put Mac in the position of having to deal with that on top of everything else? You're getting pissed at Mac for doing the same thing you are."

Don pulled alongside the curb in front of an apartment complex, pulling the wheel a little harder than he intended and clipping the sidewalk. He jammed the gear shift into park and let out a long sigh before turning to face Danny. "Alright then. You volunteering for the role of _my_ body guard?"

"I'd prefer you be Whitney Houston, but it'll work."

Don laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, whatever. Don't be takin' no bullets for me, Messer. I don't want to owe you."

Danny scoffed as he threw open the door and grabbed up his kit. "You overestimate my dedication. Besides, I don't think this guy would shoot you."

Don shut his own door and the pair started walking up to the apartment. "Oh yeah? What do you think he'd do?"

"Based on what he's done so far? I can only refer to the Saw movies for that."

"You realize there were two guys in Saw? You'd be down there too."

Danny pulled a face and shook his head. "Yeah, I quit, man. There's no way I'm going through that for you."

Don laughed. "Some body guard you are."

The two of them met up with the manager of the complex, a portly older man with a permanent smile on his kindly face. He led them to Jaycie Carlson's second floor apartment.

"So does this girl live alone?" Danny asked him.

"No, she lives with her friend, Amy Chase. Good tenants. Never really hear much from them." He shrugged as he took out his keys and stared closely at them until he spotted the right one.

When they received no reply to their knocks, the manager unlocked the door for them and pushed it open. "You need anything else from me?"

"No, thank you." Danny said, following Don inside.

"There is no way a girl who works for a non-profit lives in this apartment." Don said, taking in the spacious flat painted in pastel blues that reflected the ocean visible from the window. The family room was furnished with leather couches accented by plush, mismatched pillows, a TV the size of Don's kitchen, and a bookcase full of what had to be chick flicks.

"There is if she has a rich roommate." Danny pulled a picture frame off a nearby table and held it out to him.

The photo was of two young women, grinning cheek to cheek as they sat in a convertible on the beach of some tropical paradise. One girl was their Jaycie Carlson, owner of the phone snuck into the lab by a serial killer. The other was a brunette, assumedly Amy Chase, who appeared in several other photos on the table, with Jaycie and without. Don thought she looked oddly familiar…

"Wait a minute. Flack, does this chick look like-."

"Jane Doe." Don finished. "Her roommate is the first vic."

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"We've been over everything, Mac. If you haven't seen it by now, then maybe he didn't leave anything after all. The pictures themselves were all he wanted to get." Stella looked over at Mac whose glare lacked the enthusiasm and conviction it had before.

They had been searching for a full half hour now, and every passing minute with no results was showing in Mac's posture, and even more so in his eyes. After turning up no signs of forced entry and no foreign prints on the door knobs or light switches within ten minutes of arriving, Stella had figured there would be nothing to find. She had been watching Mac more than anything for a while now.

If she had the authority, she would have pulled him off the case by now. Protective custody was where he belonged. She'd given him the benefit of the doubt up until now, but even Mac was realizing how dangerous of a situation it was. He still wasn't doing much to keep himself safe. The only thing that had changed was his level of determination in finding this guy. As soon as she convinced him to leave and uphold his promise of a hospital visit, she was having him admitted and would make sure he stayed there by whatever means necessary. If that meant calling the higher-ups, she would do it.

Mac may have been their only connection to their suspect, but unlike him, she didn't see him as an acceptable trade-off for finding the killer. Maybe she should have, but she couldn't bring herself to even consider it an option. She'd been more protective of him lately, it was true, but something was going on with him, and even Don had noticed it. Maybe if Mac had been in a better frame of mind, she would trust him to handle this the right way, but he wasn't, and she didn't.

Mac shuffled off down the hallway, muttering something about checking his room again. Stella set down her fingerprint brush and slowly followed after him. The door was partially closed when she got there. Stella slowly pushed it open. "Mac?" She called softly. She didn't get a response, so she stepped inside.

Mac was sitting on the ground with his back to her as he faced an open closet in the corner of the room. His knees were pulled up to his chest as he fiddled with something in his hands. She cautiously walked forward. "Mac?" She said again, and again, he didn't react. As she got closer, she could finally make out what he was holding: a colorful beach ball, wrinkled and half-inflated.

Stella sat against the wall level with him so she was facing his side. It was only then that he glanced over at her, keeping his head down to hide his sheepish expression. He turned back to the object in his hands, carefully turning it over as though it were made of porcelain. "Fell out…when I opened the door." He explained in a rough voice she could barely make out even though they sat no more than 5 feet away from each other.

"From him?" She asked, her heart rate quickening for a moment until he quickly shook his head.

"No…" His left hand traced over each winkle in the plastic with memorized motions, as though he'd done it a thousand times.

Stella watched him in silence as the far-away look that he'd had back at the lab returned to his eyes. He appeared beyond exhausted. His pale skin revealed the light bruising under the cuts on his face which matched the dark bags under his eyes. He reminded her of how Lindsay had been the morning before- on the edge of a nervous breakdown as her body exhausted its physical energy and started to feed off her nearly spent emotional reserves instead.

Mac was definitely there, but while Lindsay showed it by crying, Mac showed it by a complete and total shutdown. Nearing 36 hours with no sleep after chasing down suspects, interviewing witnesses, and processing crime scenes was enough to drive anybody insane. On top of that, he'd gone from not thinking he was a target at all to having this guy in his apartment. If it was her, she probably would have broken down by now. Her apartment was supposed to be a safe haven she could always retreat to. That was why she never allowed men there unless they were Mac Taylor. She couldn't imagine how he was feeling, and, she guessed, Mac didn't quite know what he was feeling either.

"Mac?" She called after nearly five minutes of the man not even blinking. He slowly turned his head to look at her. "Talk to me. What are you thinking?" He didn't say anything, but she knew the look in his eyes when he was carefully planning out a reply. "Just talk, Mac. I don't need your political response here. I swear, I'll never understand why you can't do politics at work where it will help you, and instead blurt out everything that makes Sinclair cringe, and yet when it comes to your personal life, you can't give me one honest thought. Ever think you should try reversing those?"

The corner of Mac's mouth turned up into a smirk. "You sound like Claire."

"She was very smart."

Mac's smirk morphed into a warm smile which faded as he continued talking, "You know, about a year and a half before she died, we decided to try for a kid? We'd been putting it off and finally figured it was now or never. She'd always wanted one of her own after giving up the boy she had in high school, but she never pressed me on it. I was too scared."

Mac trailed off and Stella suddenly realized her mouth was hanging open. No, she didn't know. She had been good friends with the couple, but Mac had never told her. She sat quietly and waited for him to go on.

He chewed on his lip for a few more seconds, still staring at the beach ball. "When I finally stopped thinking about myself, the idea grew on me, and so I agreed, and then…nothing. It wasn't happening. We eventually found out she probably couldn't ever get pregnant again. It was hard on the both of us, but she was devastated. I didn't know how to handle it, but we just sort of moved on." Mac swallowed and paused as he closed his eyes briefly. Stella remained quiet.

"Her mom called me a couple of weeks ago." Mac stopped to clear his throat. "She, um, called me every week after Claire died. I didn't answer for the first month. I finally did, and then she called every month to check on me, and uh, eventually they just tapered off and we stopped talking. Then she suddenly called me up on the anniversary, and…" Mac broke off as his voice faltered. He bit his lip again and quickly ran his hand across his eyes. "She told me she had been wanting to tell me something. Every time she had called me before, she had tried to, and she never did. She couldn't bring herself to do it. With how I was…. She just didn't know how I would handle it. Then finally, years later, she felt she just had to get it over with."

When Mac trailed off this time, he didn't continue. Deafening silence prevailed for the next minute. Stella was afraid to say anything, so instead she pushed herself off from the wall and scooted across the floor to sit next to him, shoulder to shoulder, and waited. It seemed to be all the encouragement he needed.

"The day before she died…" Mac started blinking rapidly and looked up at the ceiling. He took a few deep, shuddering breaths and tried again. "The day before she died, Claire found out she was pregnant."

Stella's heart, which had been pounding in her ears, seemed to stop beating all together. Beside her, Mac briefly dug his fingers into his eyes and then stared at the floor. She didn't know what to say, or even if she could speak. Instead, she put an arm around his shoulder, a hugely disproportionate gesture that couldn't possibly offer any comfort at all. And suddenly a portion of Mac's behavior over the last few weeks started to make sense.

The tense muscles in Mac's back were just starting to relax under her touch when there was a banging at the front door.

"Stay here." Stella didn't take the time to be shocked that Mac actually complied with her and stayed where he was. She unsnapped the clip on her holster as she made her way to the front door and peaked through the peep hole. She immediately threw the door open. "What are you two doing here?"

Flack had his hand in midair, ready to knock again. He quickly dropped it.

"You aren't answering your phones." Danny explained. He did a double take when he saw Stella's expression and probably red eyes. "You guys okay?"

"We're fine. We were just processing the place." Stella said, reaching into her pocket for her phone and then realizing she'd left it in the car.

"Find anything?" Flack asked as he stepped inside.

Stella shook her head. "Nothing at all. How about you?"

"Oh, yeah." Danny grinned. "Where's Mac? He needs to hear this."

"Uh…" Stella glanced over her shoulder and hesitated. "Hold on…" She slipped back down the hallway and carefully pushed open the door again. She expected to find Mac sitting in the same spot on the floor, deflated beach ball in hand. Instead, what she found actually made her smile.

Lying on the bed, chest steadily rising and falling was Mac, fast asleep.

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A/N: I hate myself. All I ask is that you be nice. Too over the top? Pretend it never happened? I'm all for that. This is where feedback comes in handy.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Finally! I'm here. Sorry it's mostly a filler...

First off, I want to give a huge, huge thank you to everyone who reviewed and put me at ease about that chapter. It really meant a lot to me. Secondly, I went back and corrected a few things through the story I realized I missed or messed up because I didn't proofread well enough when I was changing the story around. It's not enough to change the plot or any significant point, but it helps me sleep at night knowing I don't sound like an idiot anymore...as much of an idiot anymore.

Enjoy!

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"How'd you get him to do that?"

"Like any child. Tell him a good story and he goes right down." Stella explained with a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Don took the hint and didn't press her on it. "He can't stay here."

"Are _you_ gonna wake him up?"

It was more of a threat then a question. Don threw up his hands in surrender. "So what's the plan then? We have a new lead here that can't wait. Are you going to stay here and babysit him?"

"We're already treating him like an infant." Danny shrugged, running his finger along a dusty countertop before looking back at the two detectives. "So, if you wouldn't mind keeping your voices down, you might wake him. He gets cranky without a nap."

Don could only motion toward Danny while he raised an eyebrow at Stella.

"I get it." She sighed. "But he needs sleep and he agreed to go to the hospital after we're done here, so you're going to have follow-up on the lead without him."

"What lead?"

Stella suddenly looked like she was sucking on a particularly sour lemon. She spun around on her heel to face Mac as he walked further into the room, carefully pulling the sleeve of his jacket on over his splinted hand. He looked surprisingly well rested for what had to have been a 10-minute nap.

Don glanced at his watch. "And that brings us to a total of 48 minutes of sleep today. We're making progress." He declared with a fake grin. "By the end of this month, he'll have accumulated a full night's rest."

Mac didn't even blink, and Don doubted he even heard him. "The lead, Flack?"

Don dove straight in, not wanting to push Mac's quickly waning patience. "We have an ID on our Jane Doe- Amelia Chase; roommate to the owner of our mystery phone, Jaycie Carlson. Danny and I just checked out their apartment. No sign of a struggle. Their BMW was missing from its assigned space as well. We got an APB out on that."

"I thought our Jane Doe was married." Mac said, glancing nervously at Stella every few seconds as she continued to stare at him.

"We're guessing engaged." Danny jumped in. "We found a lot of pictures of her with a man. No ID on him yet. She and Jaycie have reportedly been friends for years and moved in together after Jaycie graduated from NYU with a degree in photography. She works for a non-profit and hasn't been heard from in three days. Chase lives off her parent's trust fund and managing her father's luxury boat dealership. Both parents are deceased as of two years ago."

"What about the roommate? Was she pregnant, too?"

Don shook his head. "So far as we can tell, no, but there was nothing in the apartment to suggest that Amy Chase was pregnant either, so we can't be sure on that. We didn't find any pictures of Carlson with a boyfriend though."

Mac leaned against a nearby counter, now flat out avoiding Stella's gaze. "We need to find the fiancé, or whatever he is. Our original assumption that this was the father could still turn out to be true. Serial killers often kill people they know."

"They also avoid developing any relationships with their target types, or anyone in general." Don countered.

"Then he faked it, but that's only if he's a sociopath, and not all serial killers are."

"They are when they have a type." Don shot back.

"Then why go after the other girl?" Danny asked.

Mac shrugged. "Maybe she saw what happened. Collateral. It would explain why we don't have a body. He tried to hide the first one. Maybe he succeeded with her."

Danny cocked his head thoughtfully. "And what about him contacting you?"

"It's not unheard of. With each kill, he gets more confident and starts to think he can't get caught. His way of celebrating is this taunting." He tossed his phone onto the counter with a _smack_ as the plastic hit the granite. "Speaking of which, _somehow_ my phone was turned off," He shot Stella a brief look forcing her to finally look away, "And our guy wasn't happy about it. He left me a message."

Mac dialed his voice mail with a single button and put his cell on speaker. A distorted voice crackled through the phone, _"I'm hurt to think I'm not your first priority. I'd hate to think what would happen should I call again and you don't answer. I'll stop giving you the choice to ignore me. Think about it."_

"That's a definite cry for attention." Danny said, crossing his arms over his chest. "We sure this isn't a woman?" At Stella's resulting glare, he diverted his gaze and suddenly became very interested in an antique looking contraption on a side table.

Whether or not Danny meant it in jest, Mac answered seriously. "None of our witness accounts include a description of the suspect being a woman. They all claim male."

Danny kept his focus on the contraption, flicking his finger across a swinging arm, making it spin. "You mean the identity thief who played bingo with his mother and the new tech who broke protocol?"

"It's all we got." Mac leaned against the counter on his elbows and hung his head briefly as he shut his eyes. The action didn't escape Stella's notice, nor Don's, but something else was nagging at him. He had heard the recording of the first time this guy had called Mac, and while the voice synthesizer meant there was no way to know if it was the same person, something was indeed distinctly different.

He stepped forward and reached between Mac and Stella to replay the message. They all listened again in silence, Stella looking both incensed and worried, and Mac, surprisingly enough, showing a hint of a smile. When the message ended, Don pointed a finger at the phone on the counter. "This is different." He declared confidently, turning to face Mac, who looked up at him with that same shadow of a grin, which struck Don as disconcerting.

"What do you mean?" asked Stella.

"He means the tone has changed." Mac explained calmly, propping himself up on his good hand. "He's never threatened me before. He's done with the vague messages."

This only served to enrage Stella even more. "Please explain to me why you look so happy about that. Your only defense through this whole thing was that he wasn't after you and he never threatened you." She threw up her arms, motioning around the apartment. "Well, he's after you, and he threatened you." She ended, waving a hand at the phone which still sat innocently on the counter.

Mac didn't even flinch. Don was worried the lack of sleep was now severely affecting the man's judgment. "If he's this confident that he won't be caught, he's going to screw up and show himself. It's the next step in this progression."

"Oh, and if that involves showing himself to kill you, or going off to kill another innocent girl to show how serious he is, that's all the better for us, huh?" Stella said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

A muscle twitched in Mac's jaw as he fixed Stella with a hard glare, his green eyes flashing. Don looked between them, and instead of stepping back for his own safety, remained between them for theirs. "Stel, there's nothing we can do to change it, so let's not jump to conclusions, okay?" His comment was met with silence, during which there was another knock on the door.

Danny, who had been wandering farther and farther away as the argument got more heated, immediately sprang toward the door with an enthusiastic, "I got it!"

Stella let out a long sigh and pulled out a chair from the kitchen table before sinking into it. Mac's eyes met Don's and he gave a discreet tilt of his head. Don immediately got the message and went after Danny. He found the young CSI at the door, talking to an old woman, fashionably dressed, with the typical grandma hair-cut; short and permed, but hers was also dyed a brilliant blonde with brown low-lights streaked throughout. A pair of expensive-looking sunglasses sat atop her head, almost lost in the bushy hair.

"Can we help you, Ma'am?" Don asked.

"Ah, yes, I was hoping to talk to MacKenna." She said in a high warbling voice.

Danny bit his lip hard as he tried to stifle a laugh. "Sure, I'll go get him." He offered happily, heading back for the kitchen. "Hey, MacKenna!"

Don grabbed his arm as he passed. "This body guard thing only works one way." He warned.

Danny rolled his eyes, "Oh, it might be worth it though."

"Don't bet on it." Mac muttered as he suddenly appeared and brushed past him. Danny stiffened and Don grinned. "Hi, Mrs. Davidson." Mac greeted the woman who held her arms out for a brief hug.

"It's good to see you. When did you get back?" The old woman asked, keeping a hold on Mac's arm so she could keep him close even as the hug ended.

"Back?" Mac asked.

Mrs. Davidson frowned. "Yes. I heard you were away."

"Who told you that?" asked Mac in a lightly curious tone that didn't match the intensity of his eyes.

"The man who stopped by yesterday." She replied thoughtfully. "He said he was watching the apartment for you and got locked out. He was worried about the cat not having any food, so I let him in."

"The cat?" Danny scoffed, receiving an instant elbow in the ribs from Don.

"Oh right." Mac nodded, throwing a brief glare over his shoulder at Danny. "Yes, I did ask him to do that. Thank you."

The old woman beamed at him, patting his arm which she still held between her frail fingers. "Oh, wonderful. I was worried. Didn't want your poor cat to suffer."

Mac returned the smile. "Yes, he's fine. Did the man say anything else to you? Talk to you? Maybe you invited him in?"

The old woman shook her head. "Oh, no. Can't be too careful, especially with my hero neighbor gone." She chuckled, shaking his arm. "I unlocked the door myself and heard him leave a few minutes later. He was very polite though. Nice man. I imagine he'd make a beautiful tenor with that voice of his."

"What time was this?" Mac asked.

"Oh it was just before The Young and the Restless came on, so it must have been around 8pm. It has been too long since I sat and discussed that show with Claire. I do miss it. Tell me, is she around?"

Don watched Mac tense briefly, but he recovered quickly. "Uh, no. She's with a friend. Girl's night."

"Oh, how fun." Mrs. Davidson crooned. "Do tell her I said hi."

"I will." Mac nodded, "Good to see you. Thank you again."

"Any time, Dear." She smiled, giving Mac's arm one final pat before she turned and hobbled out the door.

Mac shut it and leaned against the frame briefly. Don snuck a glance at Danny who was no longer smiling, but rocking back and forth on his heels, his hands in his pockets. "You uh…aren't going to question her more than that? She saw the guy." He asked hesitantly.

Mac pushed off the door and turned to face them. "She's 86, legally blind and was diagnosed with dementia 4 years ago, but if you think she'd make a good witness, go ahead."

Danny mumbled a quiet apology and was spared any further scrutiny by Stella's entrance. "Who was that?" She asked.

"Neighbor who apparently let in our suspect last night." Don answered for Mac who seemed distracted as he scanned the room around him. "And before you ask, she can't ID him. She let him in and he left a few minutes later."

"That explains how he got in then. It probably wasn't enough time to do much except to take the pictures." She blew out a breath and walked over to her kit near the door, closing it up. "I guess that's all we can do here then. You two should get back to the lab and see if we've got any new leads from this morning."

"What about you two?" Don asked, swinging a finger between Stella and Mac, who was apparently done searching the room.

"Hospital." Stella answered with a glance at Mac who didn't react, much less protest. "For his hand."

"How long is that gonna take? We kind of need him on this." Don explained carefully.

"Few hours tops, Flack. You'll know if he contacts me." Mac replied. "Focus on our first vic and IDing the fiancé, check hospitals and morgues for anyone who looks like Carlson, and make sure Adam stays on her phone. I want it completely dismantled until he has every scrap of information off of it."

"You got it." Don nodded. "Good luck."

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"I don't see how it changes anything." Mac shrugged as he reclined back on the exam table, rustling the protective paper covering it. He really hated that stuff. The noise was driving him crazy. Thankfully the drugs he'd received were quickly dulling most of his senses.

"It's a direct threat."

"That's what you thought they were before." Mac smirked. "Now you just happen to be justified if you want to be as worried as you were, but not more than that."

Stella wasn't amused, but seeing as how Mac had conceded and was now sitting in an exam room, she had to cut him some slack. He also had the added buffer of now being on some powerful drugs that he could blame for whatever he said or did for the next few hours. "What do you think Sinclair is going to say about you staying on the case?"

"I think he'll be happy with the progress we've made since I talked to him this morning." Mac revealed casually as he looked over at her.

Stella stared back at him. "You already talked to him?"

Mac nodded, looking a little smug- a clear side effect of the drug affecting his inhibitions. "He saw this guy talking to me as an opportunity. His plan was to make me the bait. I wasn't sure if it would work, but based on the message our perp left, it might actually be plausible." His grin grew. "And we have you to thank for that because you turned off my phone."

"You didn't seem so happy about it when you realized he'd been in your home." She shot back.

Mac shrugged a shoulder and stared up at the ceiling. "Wasn't really expecting him to get _that_ close. I didn't think he would come after me on his own."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"We had only talked about it being a possible strategy. We haven't even put it into motion yet." Mac explained as he blinked slowly at the tiles above him, absently following the cracked pattern with his eyes.

"Does Sinclair know you're in a hospital right now?" Stella asked, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. "Does he realize how connected to this case you are?"

"Sinclair doesn't care so long as we get him." Mac let his head fall to the side as he shot her a look, the severity of which was significantly dulled by the drugs in his system. "And I didn't tell you that so you could use it against me."

Stella frowned and sighed. "I'm not trying to do that. Why _did_ you tell me?"

Mac turned back to the ceiling and ran his good hand over his eyes. "I dunno. If I had slept in the last two days, I probably wouldn't have. It has nothing to do with the case."

"But it has to do with how you feel about it."

"How I feel shouldn't affect how I work." Mac replied flatly, repeating a mantra he'd used many times before with his colleagues.

"And you're right, but it does. You know that. You can't help it. None of us can."

He turned to look at her again, pleading in his eyes this time. "Please, don't try and get me pulled off of this, Stel."

Stella was silent for a minute until she finally nodded. "Okay. I won't." Mac looked shocked and she smiled. "You be open with me about what you're doing, and I will support you in this."

He nodded warily. "Okay..."

"That also means you accept protection. I'm okay with Flack sticking by you, but I think there should be a unit tailing you too."

"Not close enough to scare him off."

"Unmarked, plain-clothed." Stella agreed.

"Call Sinclair and let him know. He'll coordinate everything." Mac said. He stopped and gave a small smile. "Thank you."

Stella stood up and wandered over to him, gently placing her hand on his head as she brushed the hair back from his forehead. "You need this. I understand… Would getting you to sleep be too much to ask, though?"

Mac laughed softly and shut his eyes against her cool hand on his flushed skin. "I don't have much of a choice. Someone's going to be in here in a few minutes to rearrange the bones in my hand, but the drugs make it a definite option."

She winced in sympathy. "You free after that?"

The exam room door suddenly swung open behind her. "Detective Taylor?" A nurse called. "You ready?"

Mac pried his eyes open. "As I'll ever be…"

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A/N: Thank you for reading! Please review!


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Thank you, thank you to all the readers and especially reviewers. I really appreciate the feedback and questions and crit. It keeps me from getting lazy and makes me think about what I'm doing. This chapter is kind of short again, which I apologize for.

As a sidenote, whether or not CSI:NY ends up getting cancelled, I will still be here, and I hope you will be too. That's when I want fics the most, in fact. So here's the continuation of mine:

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Don suppressed a shiver as he stood out on the sidewalk, scanning the street impatiently. The asphalt, sidewalk, and towering buildings shimmered with the residue of the recently fallen rain. A temporary break in the clouds allowed the afternoon sun to reflect sharply off of every single one of them, which then joined to form an inexplicable laser beam of white light to shoot straight back through his eyes and into his skull.

He may have been getting more sleep than Mac, but four hours of fractured and frequently interrupted rest weren't much to run on either, especially considering his 3am to 9pm shift the day before- plus the whole 'babysitting' Mac thing which made it more like 3 to 11.

Thankfully he'd managed to doze off for almost 45 minutes after an hour of all-consuming boredom stuck at the lab watching Danny and Sheldon shift through files as they tried to find a paper trail on the fiancé or whoever he was. He'd only been woken up when Adam stumbled in and tripped over his stretched out legs in the middle of rattling off an unnecessary story of how he'd discovered where some of the pictures on Jaycie Carlson's phone had been taken. It turned out to be useless, but Adam was proud to have gotten something new from the phone anyways as Mac had confined him to that one piece of evidence and nothing else.

Don wasn't sure if Adam's determination to impress Mac was admirable or just pathetic. Don didn't know many of the techs at the lab, but Adam stuck out as exceptionally intelligent. Of course the only other tech Don had met was Maggie, so that meant absolutely nothing.

An icy breeze tugged at Don's jacket and he ducked further into his collar. "How long does it take to drive around the block?" He muttered to himself. As if in answer, the Avalanche rounded the corner to his left ten seconds later. He strode out to the curb as the truck slowed to a stop, and pulled open the passenger-side door. "Took you long enough." He greeted the occupants wryly.

He was met with an exasperated sigh and could only assume Stella had wasted all of her glares and eye rolls in the last two hours with Mac. "Why didn't you wait inside?" She asked.

"Because you said you were outside! You specifically stressed how I needed to be quick about it."

"That was an exaggeration to begin with." Mac mumbled hoarsely as he slid off his seat and onto the sidewalk. Don was ready with a hand on his arm and Mac didn't even shrug it off, but actually leaned into it as swayed on his feet.

"You're not helping prove your case on that one." Don said, his grip tightening on the man's bicep.

"Get him upstairs."

"Go park." Mac said, not even turning around as kicked the door shut behind him.

"You two still fighting?"

Mac snorted and shook his head. "No. This is us getting along." He started to move forward on his own and seemed stable enough, so Don let go, though he remained close enough to help.

"If I didn't know you I'd say you were being sarcastic." Don smirked. He moved ahead and opened the glass door for Mac, but turned back to see the CSI had stopped and was leaning against the building's outer wall to his right. "You okay?"

Mac gave an indecipherable mumble and nodded.

Don let the door swing shut and casually sidled up next to him. "What's up?"

Mac glanced over at him and shrugged. "Just need some air. Feels nice out here."

In the midst of pulling his jacket tighter around him, Don raised an eyebrow. "Nice?"

"I'm on about five different drugs right now. Don't question it." Mac said in a slight drawl that Don had only ever heard when Mac was drunk- the one time he saw Mac drunk.

Don smirked and glanced down at Mac's splinted wrist which he held against his stomach. "What was the final word on that?" He asked, tilting his head slightly toward the hand.

"I fractured the 4th and 5th metacarpals- which meant something comprehensible an hour ago, but right now I have no idea."

Don nodded thoughtfully. Yes, normally, Mac, who knew something about everything, would have known the implications of such an injury. Don only knew because he had suffered the same injury in the line of duty as a rookie. Nicknamed the "boxer's fracture", it was commonly sustained from punching something, like an unruly suspect's face. "You hit somebody I didn't know about?"

"Not yet." Mac said, raising an eyebrow at his friend. "I'm still considering it though."

As un-funny as Mac's condition was, the homicide detective couldn't help but be a little amused by the uptight CSI's diminished inhibitions. "Drugs are hitting you pretty hard, huh?" Don grinned.

"Doesn't help that the last thing I ate was that sandwich last night."

"I told you to eat." Don shrugged.

Mac laughed. "You ate my fries."

"You told me to! I wasn't going to turn down an offer of food. I was starving." Don scoffed. He thought he felt a drop on his cheek and looked up to see the rapidly closing break in the clouds. "Come on, let's get inside so you can sleep it off. The last thing we need is you getting sick on top of everything."

Mac pushed off the wall and obediently shuffled into the building ahead of Don. Through the open lobby, which stretched to the front of the building, Don could see the media clamoring outside the main entrance. They were all focused on the street, waiting for Mac Taylor, who they would never see, because he had just snuck in through the back. Such was the reason for Stella's urgent message that Don get down to the street right away. Sinclair had warned her about the press gathering at the lab and in the best interest of Mac and consequently the entire NYPD, they had decided it was best if the battered and unmistakably high head of the crime lab avoid speaking to, or even being seen by them. So they had decided to drop Mac off and have Stella approach normally and then face the press once Sinclair arrived.

Don rather smugly considered how long the media would have to wait out there in the cold. He hoped it rained.

"You find anything new?" Mac asked as he stepped into the elevator and immediately found a corner to prop himself up in.

"We're chasing down a few leads. Nothing concrete yet. It's going to take a little while… at least that's what Danny said. I caught some sleep for a while there, so I wasn't exactly helping."

"That's good. They got it." Mac nodded.

Don stared at Mac for a minute. Aside from looking drawn and exhausted, Mac also seemed a bit more relaxed as well. That could have, of course, been the fault of the drugs, but Don figured finally coming to an agreement with Stella and subsequently figuring out a plan for dealing with their suspect were also contributors. Only Mac would feel more at ease after making himself an intentional target for a serial killer.

As part of this new plan, it was decided- or ordered, rather- that Mac get as much rest as possible until their suspect contacted him again. It was the only part of the agreement that Mac took issue with, but Sinclair had backed Stella up on that stipulation. Chief Sinclair had the image of the NYPD to protect, which meant he wanted this killer caught, but he was also responsible for the safety of those he supervised. Throwing an injured and incoherent detective to the wolves would not help to uphold either of those goals. The chief had even questioned whether or not Flack could be substituted for Mac in the plan, but as much as most of them would have preferred it that way, it was up to the killer, not them- and he had set his sights on Mac.

"Do you think it'll work?" Don asked.

Mac, who had been staring blankly at the elevator doors didn't seem to hear him. Don was opening his mouth to ask him again, when Mac started shaking his head slowly. "I don't know. We're betting a lot on assumptions here, but we do know he'll go pretty far to get my attention. So at least that's in our favor."

Don couldn't help but smirk and shake his head. The guy's homicidal nature and obsession with Mac worked in their favor. How could the plan _not_ go wrong?

The doors finally slid open and Don watched as Mac immediately straightened up and strode confidently out onto the floor. Don wasn't sure if it was just for show or an unconscious reaction.

Sheldon immediately noticed them, and Don wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been watching the elevators more than the computer screen in front of him for the last few minutes. Don had a theory that doctors were drawn to the wounded and dying out of a morbid fascination and an inexplicable desire to see how the body functioned at its worst. There was the whole 'helping people' which probably played some part, but he'd seen enough doctors and that hungry look in their eye when they saw something new. He'd sat in a hospital bed before while his doctor animatedly told another doctor the story of how Don had been stabbed with a potato peeler.

Then Don saw the concern in Sheldon's eyes and figured he'd needed to tone down his bias against doctors.

"How are you feeling?" Sheldon asked, falling into step beside Mac and looking him over closely.

"Just fine. Stella's got a file for you to look at when she gets back, but don't waste too much time on it. I want you working the case." Sheldon nodded eagerly. The 'file' had to be Mac's medical report, and the former ME would read it like the next Da Vinci Code. Mac stopped just outside his office and turned to face Don and Hawkes.

"You know to come get me if you find anything." He said, eyeing each of them in turn.

Don threw up his hand. "Scout's honor." He reached behind Mac and opened his door for him. "Now go get some rest because with our luck that will be in ten minutes and you'll waste it talking to us."

Mac smirked and walked back into his office with a roll of his eyes.

"So, did you find anything?" Don asked Hawkes as soon as the door had swung shut.

Sheldon grinned, "Come on. I found the owner of our blue SUV."

"The fiancé?" Don asked, following Hawkes as he quickly ducked into another room.

"Nope." Sheldon handed him a DMV printout. "Jaycie Carlson's employer. He says they use it as an unofficial company car and he loans it to her every now and then. Jaycie was in possession of it when she went missing."

Don glanced over the report. "Have we looked at this guy?"

"He has an alibi for the third shooting. He was appearing on a morning news show to promote his organization. He says Jaycie was supposed to go with him."

"Based on the way this is going we're gonna need a few more alibis for the other shootings." A cell phone ring cut him short and he quickly answered. "Flack…Thanks, I'll send someone out." He snapped his phone shut and let out a breath. "They found Amy Chase's BMW parked at the boat dealership she inherited."

"I could check it out." Hawkes nodded. Danny and Lindsay had gone back to Chase and Carlson's apartment a short time before, leaving him as the only option.

Don bit his lip. He wasn't in charge of the lab, but he definitely felt responsible for their safety at crime scenes. "Clear it with Stella before the reporters get to her and take Scagnetti with you. I'd go, but…" He motioned vaguely behind him toward Mac's office where the blinds were now drawn and the light switched off.

"You got it."

Sheldon took off down the hallway and Don pulled out his phone again. If this plan was going to work, he had a few favors to cash in on.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

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"It's a good thing Mac isn't watching this." Danny said, leaning back in his chair, feet up on the conference room table as a press conference played on the TV in front of him. "He'd go down there just to tell that reporter off."

Lindsay pushed his feet to the floor as she walked by him. "Stella's got it covered."

"Frankly, if I were a reporter, I'd be more afraid of Stella than Mac. Mac might put me in my place, but Stella would possibly knock out my teeth." Don said between mouthfuls of a microwave pizza he'd salvaged from the vending machines.

"I might do the same if you keep chewing with your mouth open." Lindsay warned as she pulled up a chair across from him.

Danny laughed as Don immediately shut his mouth and held up his hands in apology. "Do not mess with the women in this office. They're rabid." Danny said, earning another glare from the Montana native.

"Can we get back to this now?" She continued, flipping open a folder full of photos and messy reports. "So based on what records we've found in the girls' apartment, we're assuming the fiancé works out of the law offices of Powell and Stephens. Adam is cross checking employee files now."

Don made sure he had swallowed his mouth-full of pizza before speaking. "I told him to scratch the DMV angle and stick with facial recognition. Hawkes found out that Jaycie Carlson's employer owns a blue 1998 Ford Explorer which is an unofficial company car that he loans to her whenever she's in need of it. Carlson was in possession of it when she went missing."

"And now our killer is driving around in it. I personally would have picked the Beamer." Danny said.

"Which was found in the parking lot of the boat dealership inherited by Amy Chase, and Hawkes is there now with Scagnetti." Lindsay said, looking to Don for confirmation.

"Yep, and Mac has miraculously remained unseen for over an hour now." He added with a grin as he glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Is someone checking to make sure he isn't dead?" Danny asked, only half sarcastic.

"I did when we got back ten minutes ago." Lindsay admitted quietly as she looked over the rest of the files she recovered from the apartment. Don hid his smile. He'd peeked into Mac's office as well, just to make sure the man was sleeping, and surprisingly he was.

"Guys!" Adam burst into the room, a sheet of paper clenched in his hand. "I got a name." He tried to slide the paper onto the table, but it slipped off onto the floor. He was about to chase after it when Don grabbed his arm.

"Just say it."

Adam immediately straightened and spat it out. "Allen Lee Williams."

"He even sounds like a serial killer." Danny muttered as Lindsay stepped back from the table and pulled out her cell phone.

"What else do you have on him?" Don asked impatiently.

"Well, I need the…" Adam motioned helplessly to the fallen piece of paper. Don rolled his eyes and released Adam's arm. The tech fell to the floor and scrambled for the sheet, smacking his head on the bottom of the table as he tried to stand. "Ow! I'm good." He assured everyone as he emerged, rubbing his head with a grimace. "Okay, he's 31 years old. Received a JD and MBA from NYU 3 years ago. He worked at a few firms over the next two years and finally ended up at his current job with Powell and Stephens specializing in family law. He was raised upstate by his parents who divorced when he was 8."

"Record?" Danny asked.

"Not that I can find." Adam said, shaking his head.

Don and Danny were already on their feet. "Address?" Don demanded.

"Hold off on that for a minute." Lindsay said as she closed her phone and strode back to the table. "I just talked to Williams' secretary. She says he's been in California at a conference all weekend and his plane doesn't land for another two hours."

They all exchanged confused and hopeless expressions for the next few seconds until they were interrupted by someone else entering the conference room that Don didn't recognize. "What do you got, Mark?" Danny asked him.

"Copies of the sketch of that guy Maggie saw in the lobby. Digital representation and traditional sketch." He handed the images over to Danny who's eyes slowly widened as he stared at it.

"What is it?" Don asked, walking over to peer over his shoulder.

Lindsay and Adam did the same, except Adam had to crane his neck and stand on his toes to get a good look. "That's one feminine looking dude." Adam said.

"That's because it's not a man." Danny said, quickly moving over to the screens at the front of the conference room to bring up a picture. He held the sketch up next to it.

Don shook his head. How had they screwed this up? "It's Jaycie Carlson."

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A/N: Expect a faster update next time! At least so long as I get some feedback. I have a habit of waiting for reviews before I start writing the next chapter. So please review! Thank you for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: Yeah, I was definitely faster with this one. The first half was easy to write, the second part kept giving me grief- but we have attended counseling and have since worked things out.

Always a huge thank you to the reviewers. I am so thankful for every comment. So here you go!

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Don sighed into his tepid coffee and took a sip before grimacing and pushing it away. He looked at his watch and had to blink hard before the hands came into focus. "Was the plane delayed?"

"If you remember that I actually talked to him, no. He landed almost an hour ago- unless he was calling in the air, which is a big no-no. In that case the phone interacted with the radio signals, the plane crashed, and we will be waiting here a very long time."

Don slowly raised his head to quirk an eyebrow at his friend. "If he doesn't get here in five minutes, I'm putting out an APB. I don't care if he didn't kill these people. My wasted time is worth a life sentence."

"Hey, Adam sent a text, though." Danny informed him happily. "He says he's ruled out that Jacyie has a similar looking brother, a manly twin and … gender reassignment. Thank-you, Adam." Danny shut his phone with a snap and tossed it onto Don's desk where it slid until it clinked against the mug of lukewarm coffee.

Don took another sip and didn't even wince. He was past tasting anything anymore. Don didn't like that. It took away his whole reason for eating and food was the only thing fueling him at this point. "It's possible she just has a deep voice." He suggested as he rocked back in his chair, interlacing his fingers behind his head. "You ever talk to Officer King?"

Danny's eyebrows shot up as his eyes widened. "He's a woman?"

Don gave a snort of laughter. "She's always been a woman, Messer."

"Huh. I just thought she was a dude with nice skin." Danny said thoughtfully, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "You know the hat and short hair make it kind of hard, and she's really buff- Okay, I can buy that our perp was always a chick."

"Mac's neighbor did mention the person she met was a tenor; high-voiced male, low-voiced female. It's possible. Plus, she was always wearing a big jacket and a hood."

Danny nodded, "It does answer a lot of questions. I thought the texts were kind of weird, and- Oh!" He sat up and clenched his fist, a triumphant look on his face. "Stella owes me. I was right when I said it was a woman at Mac's apartment and she just gave me that death glare of hers."

"You called women needy and attention-seeking." Don reminded him. "I think you deserved it anyways."

Danny tilted his head and pursed his lips in reluctant agreement. "I can't wait to see what Mac thinks of it though. He's on the edge of sanity because of a woman." Danny paused and blew out a breath. "Actually, never mind. That sounds normal enough."

Don grinned. "Lady troubles, Danny-boy?"

"Between Lindsay despising me and spending every waking hour at work, I think I can safely say there are no viable relationships in my future. So, my lack of ladies is troubling, yes."

"Oh, just wait." Don said in a patronizing tone, "We haven't met Jaycie yet. You two might have a real connection."

"Oh yeah," Danny rolled his eyes dramatically, "between our love of guns and our close bond with the criminal justice system, we have a lot in common."

Don chuckled. It felt good to get a break, however brief. The only problem was it gave him time to feel the exhaustion starting to settle into bones. He felt old. He wasn't old.

Don's eyes were suddenly drawn toward the precinct doors as they swung open, revealing a man of average height in a dripping wet, beige trench coat. As he flattened his collar and smoothed back his short brown hair, Don could finally make out his face. He had a sharp jaw, small nose and piercing blue eyes. Don was pretty sure if he hadn't seen the man in the pictures at Amy Chase's apartment, he would assume this guy was a model who was coming in to report that someone had stolen his moisturizer.

"Hey," Don lightly hit Danny's arm with the back of his hand and nodded toward the front of the precinct.

"Finally," Danny groaned as he climbed to his feet and followed Don.

"Allen Williams?" Don asked.

The man, who had been looking around curiously, flashed his perfect teeth and held out his hand. "Yes."

Don shook it as the dread started to well in his chest. "I'm Detective Flack. This is Detective Messer."

"We spoke on the phone." Williams nodded, smiling amicably. "Can I, uh, ask what this is about?"

Don glanced at Danny and back at Williams, whose smile was fading fast. "Why don't you follow us?" He lightly touched the man's arm and could immediately feel him tense and pull away. Still, he followed as Danny led him back between the desks and past the first interrogation room to a smaller one behind it. It was still a drab gray with peeling green paint around the windows, but unlike the larger room, it didn't make those being questioned feel like they were tiny, helpless prisoners in a vast expanse of open space. "Take a seat." Don offered as he pulled out one of the metal chairs. "Can we get you coffee or anything?"

Williams shrugged off his jacket and slowly sunk into his seat. He looked around the room before nodding. "Um, yeah, okay. Black, two sugars?"

Danny immediately nodded and left to fetch it as Don took a seat across from the man. "Mr. Williams, what was your relationship with Amelia Chase?"

"It's Allen." He shrugged with an anxious smile. "And Amy is my fiancé… Wait, did you say _was_?"

Don looked at the table, setting his elbows on it before meeting Williams eyes. "I'm afraid I have some bad news." The man's eyes instantly filled with tears as he pressed back into his seat, starting to shake his head. "Amy was found two days ago. She was murdered. I'm sorry."

The tears finally spilled over and Don had to look away. He couldn't remember how many times he had broken the same news to parents, siblings, spouses and friends, and it never got easier. There were a number of reactions: denial, anger, grief… He'd been slugged a few times, hugged a few more. The only thing that even came close to a grieving mother was a crying man- father, husband, brother, it didn't matter.

Williams didn't try to stop the tears or even wipe them away, he sat upright though his face was lined with anguish.

"Mr. Williams- Allen, I know this is hard, but I have to ask you some questions." Don said quietly after a minute.

Williams sniffed and took a shaky breath, wiping his wet cheeks with the back of his surprisingly steady hand. He blinked a few times and set himself, finally nodding at Don. Danny entered then, carefully setting the Styrofoam cup on the table to which Williams offered a quiet "thank you."

"How long did you know Ms. Chase?"

Williams slid the cup of coffee over and wrapped his hands around it, "Three years. A friend introduced us. I only proposed a month ago."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"F-four days ago, I think. We had a fight… about the baby." Williams grit his teeth and clenched his fists. "So stupid." He cursed himself. "It wasn't that I didn't want it, I was just in shock. I left for the conference just after that. When she didn't answer my calls I assumed she was still angry with me."

"When did you find out she was pregnant?" Danny asked.

Williams screwed up his face briefly. "About two weeks ago."

Don scribbled a quick note and continued. He pulled out photos of the other victims and laid them out. Williams' eyes quickly darted from picture to picture. "Do you recognize any of these women?"

"No." He kept staring at them until Don gathered them up again.

"How about Jaycie Carlson? How well do you know her?"

The man's eyes snapped up. "Jaycie is the one who introduced us. I met her at school. We dated for a bit, but it didn't work out. She told me about her roommate and Amy and I hit it off… Is Jaycie dead too?" He added.

Don and Danny exchanged looks. "No." Don answered. "Not that we know of. Can you tell us a bit about her; your relationship, what she's like? Was anything going on in her life recently?"

Williams looked confused, but started to reply anyways, "She's very mellow- doesn't like to go out much. She's kind of quiet, but always has something smart to say. She has a great wit. She and Amy were almost complete opposites, but they were very close. As far as her life… We don't really talk as much as we used to, but I remember she had a pretty ugly breakup with her boyfriend a few months ago- I can't remember his name." Williams shook his head, "So, what exactly does Jaycie have to do with this?"

"We have reason to believe she may be involved. She's been missing for the same amount of time as Ms. Chase. Do you have any idea where we might find her?"

"Wait, how is she involved? Why do you think this is related to Amy?"

Don shook his head apologetically. "We can't discuss details, but we don't know her current whereabouts. Can you offer us any clue as to where she might go? Any friends, relatives or anything?"

Williams' eyes narrowed briefly. "No, I mean, I don't know about family or other friends. I don't think she had any nearby. She's usually out taking pictures. She likes that. Parks and the beach mostly. Specifically uh… Jackson, over on Long Island somewhere."

Don nodded, "Thank you for your help. Again, I'm sorry about your loss. We're doing everything we can to find her killer."

Williams nodded, but the light from his ice-colored eyes had gone out, replaced with a dark sort of emptiness. "Do you need anything else from me?"

"If you could have your secretary gather your flight confirmation and any receipts from this weekend, that would definitely help us narrow our focus.." Danny said.

Williams looked up again, his piercing gaze locked on Danny. "You think _I_ could do this?"

"We have to look at every option, Mr. Williams." Danny explained.

The man immediately softened. "I'm sorry, I know you do. I work with families…I know the kind of things someone can do to people they love, but I would _never_…" He voice caught in his throat and he covered his mouth with his hand.

"It's alright." Don assured him. "An officer will be coming in soon to let you know how you can go and claim the body. If you need anything, just let someone know."

"Thank you…" Williams said quietly as Danny and Don stood up with a scrape of their chairs on the concrete floor.

"So Jackson Park was a favorite of hers." Danny muttered once they had shut the door behind them.

"We did connect two bodies to that location." Don said thoughtfully, "But I can't imagine she'd hide out there. It's over an hour away. We had units scouring that place after Mac saw the car."

"Can't hurt to check again." Danny shrugged.

"Well, it can if our officers drown out there." Don said, peering out the foggy precinct windows as they walked along the hallway.

"At what point exactly do we have to wake Mac up and tell him all of this?" Danny asked.

"When we have an urgent lead. He's integral to catching her."

"We _are_ detectives last I checked. If we can catch this chick without him, why not go for it?"

Don vigorously rubbed his tired eyes. "If an opportunity presents itself, then sure, but I don't see it happening."

"Why is she hooked on him, huh? You were at the first crime scene too. Why didn't she pick you?"

"More prominent figure? I dunno." Don shrugged hopelessly. They arrived back at his desk and he had lifted the mug of cold coffee halfway to his lips before thinking better of it and setting it back down. "Look, see what else you can get from Williams. Put Lindsay in charge of getting his expense reports from this weekend to the lab."

"And where are you going?" Danny asked as Don pulled his jacket from the back of his chair and swung it around his shoulders.

"Back to the lab. This lady has gone hours without calling and she sounded like she wanted to talk, so it's gonna happen soon, and Mac won't wait for me to get there. Get King to help you." He added, nodding toward a passing officer.

Danny eyed her as she passed and turned back to Don with a smug grin. "I totally see it now."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Waking up was not easy. If Mac could compare it to anything it would have been like trying to claw his way out of a deep, mud-lined pit. Every inch of progress took a tremendous amount of effort and he only wound up slipping back to the bottom anyways. There wasn't any reason to leave the pit that he knew. It was quiet, dark, and relaxing down here. Up there on the surface were just bright lights, loud conversations and someone incessantly shaking his shoulder- _Wait, what?_

Consciousness gradually crept over him, but he still felt buried under heavy mud. The comfortable weight held him down and lured him back into the depths… and then the shaking started again. It wasn't appreciated and was starting to send shooting pains down into his opposite hand.

"Stop it." He mumbled, attempting to shrug the hand off his shoulder.

"Mac!" A voice snapped, and he felt a sharp sting of a hand slapping his arm.

"Hey!" He cried in protest, turning from his right side onto his back to face the culprit as he forced his bleary eyes to open.

"Mac, answer it."

Mac shrunk back as a cell-phone was shoved into his face, its shrill ringing assaulting and consuming his muddled brain. He stared at it blankly, blinking slowly in confusion until he heard an exasperated sigh and the phone was briefly retracted and then pressed against his ear a second later. "Hello?" He rasped as he finally started to catch on, lifting his left hand to hold the phone in place.

"That was close…" A distorted voice warned in reply. "I see you're keeping a low profile. Your lady friend is very pretty though."

Mac closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "What do you want?"

"Humor me, I'm getting bored. I love seeing your lackeys running around, but this is really between you and me."

"So all the people you killed are just collateral?" Mac heard himself talking and even loosely understood what he was saying, but it was surreal somehow- like he had no control over it.

"Hardly. You're just here to spice things up, but you're not making it much of a challenge anymore."

Mac slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position, hoping it would help to turn on his sluggish brain. Stella hands supported him much of the way. "What was breaking into my apartment supposed to accomplish?"

There was silence for a few seconds. "Your neighbor is a nice lady. Very trusting. Don't think I can't make this about you. I'd love to have that wife of yours involved. She would have been a perfect fit really, but I guess somebody already handled that for me."

In a brief moment of complete lucidity, Mac's fingers closed tightly around the phone, causing the plastic to crack under the strain. He screwed his eyes shut and forced himself to take a few breaths. "Get to the point." He growled.

The voice chuckled. "Alrighty, then. I decided to make this a little more interesting for you. I would hate for you to think I'm not completely invested in my purpose. I think you should take a visit to that park again, but you won't have much time to nap before this one… She's still alive; I just can't guarantee she will be when you get there. I'll give you a hint: I will give you that tall lanky detective, but the less people you bring with you, the longer she has. I'll let you decide where that line is." There was a quiet _click_ and the line went dead.

Mac glanced up at Stella who was looking over his shoulder toward the AV lab with a questioning look. A second later her face fell. Mac dropped his head onto his fist, as the exhaustion crashed over him again.

"Mac?" Came Stella's concerned voice.

Mac pinched the bridge of his nose and dropped his hand. "Not exactly a nice wake up call."

"I'm sorry." She winced.

"Not your fault." He muttered, having to put forth an actual concerted effort to keep his eyes open. "What time is it?"

"Nearly 8."

He rubbed at his eyes again. He'd been asleep for four hours and he felt more exhausted than he had before. "Everyone still here?"

"Don is almost here, and Danny is at the precinct, but other than that, yes."

Mac's eyes were closed again, but he heard Stella get up and talk to someone at the door. When she returned, he continued. "Get Danny to stop whatever he's doing. I need him for this."

"What's the plan? He said he didn't want you bringing anyone."

"He didn't say _anyone_." Mac was trying to explain this quickly, but the faster he talked, the more he stumbled over the words. He forced himself to speak slowly. While his mind was gradually waking up, his body didn't seem to be taking it quite as well. "Don goes with me. Danny can leave straight from the precinct with another team that stays out of sight. This guy has to be close if he wants his threats to bear any weight."

"Mac, there have been updates on this case. It was Jaycie Carlson who delivered the phone. She's our main suspect now."

Mac stared at her for a few seconds, or at least attempted to, but his eyelids kept closing without him realizing it. His brain couldn't even wrap itself around this new information just yet. He shook his head. "That doesn't change the plan. Don can update me on the drive." Mac tried to push himself to his feet and immediately fell back onto the couch, his head spinning, limbs full of lead.

"Take it easy." Stella cautioned him as she sat by him, her hand on his back.

"Not a lot of time, Stel." Mac scoffed, rather half-heartedly as his heavy eyelids slid shut again.

"And you're not going to help if you can't even stand up. Where's the medication the doctor prescribed?"

"Medication is my problem right now." He meant it to come out less garbled than it did. His tongue felt thick. "Can't wake up." He cursed, frantically rubbing his forehead.

"Sheldon, thanks." Stella suddenly said. A second later something cold was pressed into Mac's hand.

He pried his eyes open just enough to make out the bottle of orange juice in his hand. If he had the energy to give Sheldon a look, he would have. "It's not the best." He heard the former ME's voice say to his right. "But it's all that Flack left in the vending machine and it'll definitely help for now. Lindsay is rounding up cash to hopefully track down some Gatorades, but she has to hunt through the other floors to find them."

"How far away is Don?" Mac asked, blatantly ignoring Sheldon, mostly because he hadn't heard what he'd said.

"Two minutes." Stella offered.

Mac felt someone else sit beside him and bottle of juice was removed from his hand. He heard the snaps as the cap was screwed off. "You need to drink all of it. I read that report. CBC was all over the place. I'm sure they told you this."

Mac could only shrug. He vaguely remembered.

"You need fluids and you need sugar." The bottle was placed back in his hand. "I know you don't want to, but drink it."

It was a major effort just to get the thing in a position to drink from it. Mac nearly gagged at the strong taste. He normally wasn't against orange juice, but he couldn't imagine he'd ever be having it again after this. Still, he forced himself to take another swig. If it helped him wake up more, he'd have to suffer through it.

Stella helped to distract him by updating him on the information they had found from the sketch to the fiancé and what Don and Danny had found out from him.

"Good." Sheldon said approvingly as Mac suddenly noticed the bottle had become surprisingly light.

He leaned against the back of the couch between sips and forced his eyes open, this time to much less protest from his body.

"Better?" Stella asked.

Mac nodded slightly, but felt relieved when Sheldon took the empty bottle away from him, explaining that he would go see if he could help Lindsay in her search. Mac still felt like he'd just finished a marathon, but at least his mind had stopped switching off.

"You sure you're okay?" Stella asked once Hawkes had left.

_She would have been a perfect fit really, but I guess somebody already handled that for me. _Mac scowled, but nodded. How had they known? Or maybe they hadn't and he was just reading into it...

"Don's here. Be right back." Stella patted Mac's knee and rose to her feet, snapping him from his racing thoughts.

Mac let out a long sigh and dragged his hand over his face. It was all happening so fast, hitting him all at once, but with any luck they could end this tonight.

It was a few minutes before Don pushed open the office door and stepped inside. "You ready to go?"

Mac nodded. "Let's get this guy."

"Woman."

"Whatever."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

A/N: And there's that... Please review!


	12. Chapter 12

A/N: I'm so sorry this took me forever. My keyboard broke, and as a result my computer crashed... But it's here! And it's long! Also thank you for your reviews and I hope you enjoy this.

And my keyboard is still broken, so random w's may have appeared without my knowledge or prompting. Just ignore them.

* * *

><p>"You want one of these?"<p>

Don looked over at the offered bottle of Gatorade and then at Mac before turning back to the road. "Hawkes told you to drink_all_ _three_ of those."

"That's because Hawkes doesn't have to drink them." Mac replied flatly, giving the bottle a shake. "Come on, you look about as tired as everyone is telling me I am."

Don scoffed. "I sure hope not, or we're both dead." It wasn't as much of a joke as he wished it was. There had actually been a debate over who was more fit to drive. Mac was technically more rested, but was also still fighting the effects of dehydration and low blood sugar and his right hand was essentially useless. While Don was exhausted and running on the fumes of a buffet supplied by the vending machine, he was less likely to suffer some sudden complication and crash the truck before Mac's stalker even had a chance to get to them. Still, driving at night with eyelids that had suddenly discovered the powerful effects of gravity left him slightly nervous. Ironically it was the adrenaline from that fear that was keeping him awake and alert.

Don took the Gatorade and then paused, holding it out to Mac again. "Want to open it for me?" He added with a smirk. The feeling in the Avalanche had become significantly less tense in the last few minutes. The lights and sirens weren't very conducive to that, but they'd been driving for half an hour already and the park was still another 30 minutes away. They could only be on edge for so long before they had no other choice but to relax-and in their case, they had been on edge for nearly 48 hours straight. They had already exhausted talking about the plan for once they arrived, where Danny and the backup team would be, and every possible contingency they could think of.

Mac just glanced at the drink and gave him a wry look. He'd fought with a bottle of Gatorade for the first 10 minutes of the drive before finally humbling himself enough to ask Don for help. The upside to that was Mac was reluctant to recap the bottle, meaning he had to drink it all at once. On the other hand, it left the unopened bottles unlikely to _ever _be opened, and thus Mac's energy was being supplied by 20 ounces of Fruit Punch flavored sugar water- Sheldon had claimed something about carbs and electrolytes, but it had all gone over his head.

Don grinned and snapped off the cap of his "Glacier Freeze" flavored bottle. He wasn't sure how glacier was supposed to indicate that it would taste like anything other than water, but he took a long swig anyways and was pleasantly surprised. There was more to it than blue food-coloring after all. He finished half of it before he set the bottle down in a cup holder. "You know this means you won't be able to shoot that gun if you can't twist off a lid, right?"

Mac smiled. "You don't trust me to shoot left handed?"

"Not when I'm supposed to be 'protecting you', no." Don said, adopting a resentful tone on the last few words. He didn't mean it against Mac. That had been a part of their lecture from the chief of detectives. It had taken a good amount of convincing for Sinclair to sign off on this, but in the end, he had no choice but to agree. Still, he had only let them go once he was sure all of his bases were covered. His first and foremost goal was to get his detectives out alive. That burden had been placed squarely on Don's shoulders. Mac was supposed to lay low, stick by Don, and if the opportunity presented itself, save a woman's life, though hopes were not running high on finding the next victim alive. Catching their killer was almost an afterthought. They weren't even sure if Carlson would be there.

Mac just shrugged in response to Don's comment. There wasn't a single one of them who was comfortable with the arrangement, but at least Mac was allowed to bring Don instead of being forced to go alone. Neither of them could figure out why exactly Don had made the cut, but couldn't think of a downside to it either. It had to be a part of this ever escalating game, but like a stubborn toddler, their killer kept changing the rules.

"Well, I don't think there will be any need to draw, let alone fire, but I'm not _that_ bad of a shot left-handed, either." Mac added.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not find out." Don admitted and Mac nodded in agreement.

They were silent for a few more minutes while Mac turned one of the plastic, half-filled bottles over in his hands, but didn't drink any of it- probably because he'd unwittingly screwed the cap back on. "You know you've fought me less than anyone else through this whole thing and I appreciate that." He suddenly said.

Don stopped mid-sip and hesitantly set his drink back down. "They were just worried."

"So were you." Mac countered with a knowing look.

"What?" Don asked with a forced smirk. "I just know better than to get in your way."

Mac didn't buy it. "That's not it. It's something else." He shook his head and looked out through the window at their surroundings which grew darker the farther they drove from the glare of the city lights. He absently picked at the wrapping on the bottle, peeling it off and smoothing it back down until the glue refused to stick anymore. "I told you, didn't I?"

Don visibly winced and it took all of his concentration to keep driving. He chewed on the inside of his cheek while he shifted his grip on the steering wheel. Don didn't need to ask what Mac meant, and Mac knew he didn't need to clarify his question. They had probably both been thinking about it for the last few days, but had shoved it aside, hoping it hadn't actually happened. There was no avoiding it now.

Don started hesitantly, stumbling over his reply. "Not in so many words… or coherent words, at least, but I got the gist of it." He risked a glance at his passenger who closed his eyes and let out a long breath.

Don immediately felt horrible, like he'd just admitted to reading the man's journal, which was exactly how he had felt that night when Stu, the manager of a bar frequented by cops, had called him in to check on a detective who looked like he could use a ride home. When Don had arrived, Mac was the absolute last person he had expected to find. Disheveled, shirt un-tucked and hair sticking out every which way like he had ran his fingers through it more than once, Mac had looked up at Don with red eyes and immediately drained the rest of whatever amber colored liquid he'd clearly had too much of.

Don must have stood there for a full two minutes before he finally spoke, gently suggesting he give Mac a lift home. The CSI that Don had done nothing but look up to as a mentor for two years had simply stared back at him, looking like the world had just crumbled around him and all he had left to hold onto was the glass in his hands. He called Stu over for another round, offered Don one as well- which he ended up drinking himself- and didn't say another word for ten minutes. Completely out of his league, Don had sat there, watching the strongest person he knew melt away with every sip. Don's expression, which had done nothing but scream the question "why?" was clear enough even for the severely inebriated detective to see. Then out of the blue… Mac had told him. _"Claire was pregnant."_

Don hadn't said anything after that. Stu refused to give them any more alcohol, and Mac had simply given up, easily agreeing to let Don drive him home. Mac hadn't even realized he was at Don's apartment and not his own. He'd passed out on the couch, and by the time morning rolled around and Don went out to check on him, Mac had gone. When they'd seen each other again, they had both acted like it had never happened, and Don assumed that Mac probably didn't even remember anyways. It appeared that Mac remembered a bit more than he had let on.

Don shifted in his seat. "Look, I probably should have told you-."

"No, I'm glad you didn't say anything." Mac interrupted, a brief smile of gratitude passing over his lips. "I probably wouldn't have handled it very well had you told me earlier."

"I just figured if you wanted me to know, you would have told me when you were sober, and I didn't really anticipate a situation in which you would want me to know." Don looked over at Mac, who was momentarily illuminated in the light of a passing street lamp and looked about as guilty as Don felt. He glanced back as Mac looked away. He hadn't meant to upset him more… "I'm _really_ sorry, Mac- about everything. I can't imagine…" Don trailed off.

Silence reigned again, apart from the soft slap of rain falling against the car.

"How did she know?" Mac suddenly asked.

Don wasn't sure if Mac was just talking to himself or asking a real question. "Who?" He finally replied when Mac remained silent.

"The caller- the suspect- Carlson, whoever it is." Mac paused to chew on his bottom lip. "She mentioned my wife."

Don winced and his stomach twisted. These things just wouldn't stop coming, would they?

"The way she talked about Claire, it made me think that she knew. I could be reading into it, but…something about the way she said it…" Mac went on quietly. "How could she know? I only found out two weeks ago. The only other person I've told is Stella."

"And me…" Don reminded him. "Which you didn't remember doing."

"You think she was at the bar?" Mac asked doubtfully, then ran his hand over his face as he blew out a breath. "How many people did I tell exactly? Does the whole bar know?"

"As far as I know, I was the only one and we were in a corner, pretty isolated." Don tried to assure him. "You didn't say it very loud, or even explain it more than to say… it." Don hurried on. "You didn't exactly look approachable, so I doubt you were having casual conversations with the people there, but I guess it's possible. I can call Stu and check if anyone else talked to you, but that seems like a pretty big coincidence."

"Maybe." Mac sighed. "But it's that or he broke into my apartment to plant a listening device and I'll take eavesdropping at a bar over hidden microphone if only to prove I'm still sane."

"I don't know," Don shrugged. "At this point that sounds just as plausible to me. Who breaks in to take pictures and leave only to give them back to you on their own phone later?"

"Someone who wants to prove they can get to me and can't be caught." Mac explained, then, to Don's surprise, he actually smiled. "So you're going to take the hidden microphone on this one?"

Don smirked, briefly taking his hand off the steering wheel to grab another swig of his drink, grateful that the tension in the truck had dissipated yet again. "Well, someone should, just so all of our bases are covered, you know? Plus, Adam would get a kick out of that theory."

"Entertaining Adam does not qualify that as a good theory." Mac said, eyebrow raised.

Don shrugged again. "I guess we'll see."

A breath of laughter escaped Mac's lips. "If you're right, lunch is on me for a week."

Don brightened. "Oh yeah? And what if I'm wrong?"

Mac thought for a minute, "Coffee is on you."

Don pursed his lips. "Not to sound ungrateful, but there seems to be a cost discrepancy there. What am I missing?"

"Lunch is off the dollar menu at McDonald's."

Don nodded thoughtfully. "I'm surprisingly okay with that. Deal. I'd shake on it, but…" He nodded his head toward Mac's broken hand.

"You better hope our roles are never reversed." Mac said with a warning look, though his eyes glinted with mirth.

Don shook his head, struck with the surrealism of having this conversation with Mac. "This is a bad idea."

Mac had clearly been thinking along the same lines. "What? The fact that you haven't slept at all, and I'm on drugs? It's a horrible idea. She's not stupid asking for both of us."

"And yet you don't sound worried."

"Neither do you." Mac countered.

Don smirked. "Because I haven't slept and you're on drugs?"

"Something like that."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Mac climbed from the Avalanche, glad to find his legs had finally overcome their jelly-like state and were supporting him rather steadily. His muscles still ached with exhaustion, but he'd take stiff and sore over weak and uncooperative, especially for the mission he was about to undertake. Don came around the truck and stood next to him, staring out into the park. The trees were only visible as slightly blacker masses than the angry clouds overhead, which had yet to cease their downpour. If not for their waterproof shells, emblazoned with the initials "CSI", their clothes would have been soaked through in minutes.

Through the howling wind, Mac heard a faint static and then Danny's voice came through the radio tucked into his ear. "We're set, Mac. No sign of any other vehicles in any of the parking lots. From where I'm standing it looks clear, but that's not saying much."

"Copy that. Keep your position. We can't risk a better sweep without you being seen." Mac replied.

"Got it." Danny replied, and though he tried to hide it, Mac could hear the frustration in his tone. "Standing by."

Mac heaved a sigh, zipping the jacket up to his chin, and turned to Don. "Ready?"

Don reached to his side and adjusted his gun in his holster before he nodded. Mac also wore a gun on his hip, but it was more for show or a last resort. They had no time to find a left-handed holster, and Mac severely doubted his broken hand's ability to grip the weapon tight enough to pull it out of the leather casing, let alone fire it. Despite his assurances that his left hand wasn't completely useless when it came to shooting, Mac wasn't quite as confident as he let on. He was helpless and would have felt just as vulnerable if he hadn't been carrying any weapons at all. It wasn't fair to Don for him to be responsible for Mac's safety. It only made things more dangerous for the both of them. He looked up at the homicide detective again, and as Mac's eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, he recognized the vigilant. watchful gaze Don wore. It helped Mac to feel more confident about his protection, but he was determined to have Don's back as much as Don had his.

The rain was quickly working to make the parking lot indistinguishable from the ocean just down the cliff. They sloshed through the water which easily reached the top of their shoes and were grateful to find the asphalt trailhead was significantly less water-logged. Mac remembered from his earlier visit that the park had recently re-paved this trail, making it much easier to walk on and less prone to standing water, even in this torrential downpour.

He and Don had planned to walk the trail Mac had identified the day before as the most likely area their second vic had been killed in. From there, they would slowly widen the search. They both knew it would be wise to also check the beach where Amy Chase's body had been found, but the trail leading down to the hidden cove was treacherous even in the best of weather. Trying it now would be nothing short of suicide. Mac wryly considered that what they were currently doing was no less dangerous, but was eager to cut out anything that would increase the chances of this going poorly.

They passed the bench where they had sat the day before and Mac had revealed that the killer was contacting him. Then Stella had enthusiastically chewed him out for hiding it. Don hadn't been happy either, but stuck to sarcastic comments while Stella had really lit into him. Now that Stella knew about Claire, she had toned down her disdain for Mac's handling of the situation. He was grateful but also a little annoyed by it. He shouldn't have had to earn the right to do his job out of sympathy. Then again, maybe if he hadn't found out himself, he would have been more open and more careful with this case. As much as he tried, and as much as he hated to admit it, it had affected his job, and if this killer thought she could use it against Mac, she had chosen a brilliant strategy. She was about mind games, not physical pain. Mac's broken hand had been his own damn fault, but the sleep deprivation rested solely with her.

Mac felt a little more secure in their situation as he thought about this. She wouldn't try to hurt them. That wasn't her style.

"Mac?" Don called over the sound of the rain slapping the fallen leaves on the ground.

Mac's head snapped up as he realized he had slowed his pace and was 10 feet behind. He quickly caught up. "Let's use the flashlights." He said.

"Yeah?" Don pulled his out. "Think we're okay to do that?"

Mac clicked his on in reply. "We're not going to see anything without them, and I'd like to get out of this rain as soon as possible."

"I second that." Don nodded as he starting sweeping the beam across the trail and into the brush on the right side of the trail. Mac took the left.

At first, they walked quickly, vigorously scanning their surroundings. Don had kept one hand on his gun, splitting his attention between his charge and the landscape. Mac had kept telling him to keep his eyes on the road, not him.

An hour later found them severely lacking in the energy that had fueled them at the start. Mac could often spot the beam of Don's flashlight shudder as the man shivered from the cold. The trees shielded them from the worst of the storm, but it also meant that the drops that did find them were accumulations of hundreds of rain drops which had collected on the leaves and then spilled over. Mac had walked under more than one pseudo waterfall that night and had given up on trying to remain even partly dry. However, where Don was freezing and cursing the cold under his breath, Mac appreciated it. Walking around back-trails for an hour in an insulted jacket was stifling. The drops actually felt good, and they definitely kept him alert.

"At what point do we call this off and go home?" Came Danny's lethargic voice over the radio.

"As soon as we got a body, Danny." Mac replied calmly.

"Which at this rate is going to be mine." Don grumbled.

"Can we at least go in and help? It's been 2 hours since this chick called. If the victim is hurt, she's running out of time."

Mac sighed. "I know that."

"I mean Carlson could have been lying about being here just so this girl would die while we sat around and did nothing."

"I know, Danny." Mac snapped. "But we have to go off the information we have. It could just as easily go the other way and we have no victim at all."

"Mac, your phone." Don suddenly said, nodding toward his pocket.

Mac hadn't even heard the ring. He pulled it out of his pocket, which had thankfully remained dry as it was covered by the hem of his jacket. "Danny, why is Adam calling me?"

"No idea. I haven't talked to him."

"These are supposed to be routed through you."

"And Adam is the one running that." Danny reminded him, a sarcastic bite to his tone.

Mac begrudgingly answered. If Adam were calling, he had to have good reason. "What is it, Adam? Be quick."

The line crackled, and Mac could tell the connection was weak. Adam's frantic voice kept cutting out. "Mac-… sorry, but…hear this."

"I can hardly hear you Adam, you need to go through Danny."

"Wait! No… checked… didn't get on…"

Mac blew out a breath and wiped a stream of rainwater from his forehead. "Say again, Adam."

"He never got on the-!"

_Crack!_

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot cut through the trees, bounced off the rocks and echoed back toward them. Mac hastily shoved the phone back in his pocket as Don drew his weapon.

"What was that, Mac?" Danny demanded.

"Not us. We're going to find out. Stand by." Mac said in a hushed tone as he fought to extricate his gun from his holster by reaching across with his left hand. "That way?" He tilted his head toward the trees off to the right and Don nodded.

Mac had finally managed to get a hold on his Glock and held it tightly in his left hand, pointing it at the ground as he followed behind Don who still had his flashlight out. Mac was forced to tuck his back in his pocket as he could either pick the gun or the light to hold, but not both.

They hurried through the brush, splashing through puddles and slipping through mud until Don came to a sudden stop. Mac carefully peered around him to see that the flashlight had landed on a body, lying face up in the mud, unmoving. He hurried forward as Don swept his light around them in a circle, keeping an eye out for the shooter.

Mac fell to his knees beside the body and pulled his flashlight back out, placing his gun in his jacket pocket. He was immediately drawn to the blood streaming from the woman's stomach. He quickly removed his jacket and balled it up over the wound. "Danny, we need a bus. We got a woman, gunshot wound to abdomen." He swept the flashlight over the rest of the body, searching for more injuries and froze when the beam landed on her face. "Oh sh-."

A loud splash to his left cut him off as Mac turned to his left just in time to see Don fall to the ground, clutching his head and groaning.

Someone reached down and picked up Don's dropped gun before tossing it behind them into the undergrowth. Mac whipped his light around to focus on the person as they straightened up. They immediately lifted a hand to block the beam from piercing their eyes. "Well, that's rude. Drop it." A man's voice demanded as he lifted his other hand to point a gun back at Mac.

He obediently dropped the light so it landed in the mud, it's ray landing on Don, who was still moaning and half-conscious.

"Mac, what's going on?... Flack? Somebody answer me!" Danny's frantic voice came over the radio. "That's it, we're going in."

Unable to respond, Mac could only sit there. Danny and the team were at least two minutes out. It would probably take them three to find him.

"Hands." The man demanded, taking a step closer to Mac.

He lifted them, but tilted his head to the side toward the lifeless woman. "Just let me stop the bleeding."

The man laughed. "Stop it? Thirty seconds ago you were sure she was a serial killer." He mocked. "I just did you a favor."

Mac looked back at the woman. So it was her- Jaycie Carlson. Their presumed killer was bleeding out from the same hole in her stomach as the last three victims. Mac looked back up at the man. The ambient glow from the flashlight made it hard to see his face except in vague contours. "Who are you?"

"Oh don't doubt yourself. You were right the whole time. Jaycie here helped, but she broke the rules. She started to go soft on me, couldn't see what I was trying to do…tried to stop me…warn you. She thought I didn't know. Luckily you clued me in to that."

That's what Adam had been trying to tell him. _"He didn't get on the _plane._" _It was the first victim's fiancé. It always had been. Mac swallowed, glanced at Don and back up at the man. "So what now?" He asked, slowly lowering his hands to no objection from the fiancé- Williams, Mac remembered.

"Oh, I'm not done yet. As far as I'm concerned, I'm just getting started. I admit I was hesitant at first, but I've decided to come clean and let you know who I am. You were about to figure it out anyways, thanks to one of your clever underlings. Now I can fully embrace my mission."

"And what's that?" Mac asked, cautiously placing his hands back over his jacket to put pressure on the woman's wound. Williams shifted his grip on the gun, but again, didn't stop him.

"That's part of the fun." Williams shrugged. "Part of what I'm trying to teach you." He warily eyed Mac's hands. "Broken, huh? I heard about that. Too bad. I didn't mean for that to happen." Mac just stared coldly back at him. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Detective. I'll be seeing you again soon, but first…" Williams swung the gun around to point at Jaycie. "Can't have her revealing all my plans." His finger started to squeeze the trigger.

Mac spun around, holding the gun he had been maneuvering out of his jacket pocket, and fired.

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A/N: Oh cliffhanger... I really drag this out. The story isnt over yet! Remember the intro? Please review and leave comments about questions, speculation or anything!


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Thank you very much for your reviews. I can't tell you how much they mean to me! This is kind of filler... and I'm not so sure I like it, but I'm tired and feeling sick, so this is it for now.

EDIT: Updated/edited slightly and whatnot. Don't post at 2am. It makes for crap.

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The shot went wide.

Don had only just become aware of his surroundings when he saw Mac turn and fire, though the shot sounded muffled and distant in his ears. His target had ducked and immediately fled out of sight, his retreat covered by the sound of the still falling rain. Don expected to see Mac take off after him, but instead shifted his eyes to see the man on his knees, hunched over as he cradled his arm against his stomach. His left hand sunk deep into the mud as the only support keeping him from falling over. The gun lay forgotten on the ground.

It was then that Don became aware that his own face was half-submerged in the thick sludge, and he was another inch away from choking on it. He attempted to lift his head and stopped as stars burst in his vision and pain shot through his skull. His head fell back into the mud with a soft splash as he screwed his eyes shut. The throbbing was just beginning to die down some when Danny's voice suddenly started squawking in his ear, making the agony ten times worse. With a weak flick of his hand, Don dislodged the radio, flinging it into a puddle. He basked in the resulting silence. The only sound that filtered through his consciousness now was the soft patter of rain as it fell to the forest floor. He could feel the drops land on his cheek, but he felt disconnected from it somehow.

He fought to remember how he had ended up on the ground, face down in the dirt. He and Mac had just found the body-Jaycie Carlson's body—on the ground. Don had quickly turned from the body to find the shooter, half-expecting to see another cop had done it for them. That's when his memory became hazy. He hadn't fully passed out. He had been vaguely aware that something was going on, he just couldn't do anything about it.

His senses were slowly returning now, and he was becoming uncomfortably aware of how cold he was. He tried to move his fingers and got a lethargic response from the nearly frozen limbs.

As he tested out his icy legs, Don heard another voice, this one coming from only feet away, weak, but urgent.

"Flack!... Don!"

Don pried his eyes open and spotted Mac leaning on the body of the fallen woman, but Mac's attention wasn't on her. He was staring intently at Don. Once he noticed Don was looking back, he visibly sighed in relief. "Stay with me. You okay?"

Don blinked slowly at him and then nodded, his face sliding through the slick mud. Mac looked reassured, but even with a half-functioning brain, Don could see his face was lined with pain. "You?" Don muttered, trying to keep the mud from sneaking into his mouth. He wasn't even sure Mac could hear him.

Apparently he had. Mac looked surprised and then nodded. "Danny's gonna be here any second. Just keep your eyes open, okay?"

"I'm alright, Mac." Don insisted as he gathered his hands under him, trying to gain some purchase on the slimy ground.

"Don…" Mac warned.

He ignored Mac's protests and continued to try and sit up and miraculously managed to do so without causing any further harm to himself. His head still pounded, but at least he wasn't drowning in the mud. He lifted one of his hands from the muck with a squelching sound and shook the grime from it. "I'm okay." He assured Mac who was still eyeing him closely. "What about her?"

Mac sighed, and Don finally realized that Mac was leaning on her to put pressure on the wound in her stomach. His right arm dangled uselessly across his lap. "She's alive." Was all Mac said. How long she would stay that way was clearly another matter entirely.

Danny and the backup team arrived only moments later, their boots kicking up mud and rain water as they rushed into the clearing. Two men immediately took over for Mac in tending to the woman's injuries while Danny rushed to Don and crouched down to get a good look at him, shining his LED penlight into Don's overly-sensitive eyes. "Mac said you got hit."

Don held up a hand and pushed the light away. "Yeah, I did." He grumbled, none too proud that he had been caught off guard like he had been. "You going after him?"

"We can't risk chasing after him in the dark like this, but we've got every exit out of this place covered." Danny assured him, tilting up his light ever so slightly to get a look at Don's face again.

"I'm fine." He said again, an edge creeping into his voice.

Danny clicked off the beam of his flashlight, but kept a scrutinizing eye on his friend. "Yeah, well, we sent an order in for another bus anyways."

Don groaned internally, and maybe out loud as well. "I don't need a hospital."

"Mac says differently."

"Mac needs a hospital."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Mac says differently." He repeated. "How's your head?"

Don attempted to wipe the mud from his face with his sleeve and ended up smearing more of it across his cheek. "How many times do I have to say fine?"

"Until the ambulance gets here. Positive thinking, Flack. If you keep thinking it, it might actually happen." Danny said, trying to sound sarcastic, while even Don could tell it was half-hearted.

He held out a muddy hand and clasped onto Danny's shoulder. "At least help me out of this crap?"

The CSI hesitated, but as Don started to rise on his own, jumped in rather let his friend fall on his face. They slipped and stumbled as the muck tried to pull them back in, but finally found success. "You good?" Danny asked him.

Don made sure his feet were steady underneath him before letting go of Danny's arm. "Yeah." He fruitlessly tried to brush off his jacket, again accomplishing nothing but smearing the sludge around. He resigned himself to the fact that he would remain cold, wet and dirty until they got out of here, which apparently meant the back of an ambulance for him. Don would do his best to fight it, though he would probably lose. A constant pressure was building in his skull and his vision kept going in and out of focus. Don gingerly touched the back of his head and felt the tender lump of rapidly swelling flesh there. Perfect… That damned son of a bitch had given him a concussion.

"Here, take a seat," Danny coaxed, motioning to a large knee-high rock nearby. "It's not dry, but it's better than passing out."

Don offered no protest as he trudged across the muck and carefully sat himself on the rock. It was cold, but at least his head had stopped spinning. He leaned forward on his knees and stopped himself just before he smeared more mud across his face. The wind was quickly picking up now, and Don was shivering near constantly. Every tremor of his body was sending shockwaves through his head, but trying to keep himself from shaking was almost just as painful.

Through the constant dance of LED flashlights, he caught sight of Mac about ten feet away, leaning his left shoulder against a tree while holding his phone to his ear with the same hand. He alternated between hanging his head and yelling into the phone. Despite their proximity, Don couldn't understand what he was saying through the sound of the storm. He could only hear the tone of the conversation, and Don was infinitely grateful that he wasn't on the other end of that call.

He could only imagine who it was and what they were talking about. Probably Sinclair… probably berating Mac for getting this so horribly wrong, but it wasn't Mac's fault. It was definitely Don's…

Danny took a seat next to him as he let out a long sigh and held out a familiar black Glock by the barrel. "This belong to you?"

Don gingerly took the gun into his hands like a fallen comrade and studied the weapon for any injuries. There was a chink in the handle that hadn't been there before, marring the pristine black metal. "Son of a…" He muttered as a stream of dirty water spilled from the barrel.

Danny held out his hand to take it back. "Evidence, man, sorry. Mac says this guy tossed it."

"You're not gonna get anything off it." Don said, but obediently handed it back before turning to look at Mac again who had taken to pacing. An officer kept him from going very far, much to Mac's frustration.

Danny followed Don's gaze to his boss and hung his head. "He's pissed." He said simply.

"And has every right to be." Don grumbled. He tore his eyes from Mac and turned to Danny. "How did we miss this? We were talking to this guy two hours ago!" He swore and in his anger forgot to stop himself before running his hand over his face again, coating it in even more grime.

"He said all the right things." Danny rested his elbows on his knees and hunched his shoulders. He winced as he glanced at Mac and quickly looked away, as if in shame. "We had nothing to hold him… There's nothing we could have done." He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than reassure Don.

Don pressed his muddy fingers to his temple as a sudden bolt of pain shot through his head. "Maybe…" He muttered, but was thankfully prevented from running over the interview in his head by the arrival of the paramedics.

They quickly swarmed around the body, their bright reflective jackets like beacons in the dark, and prepped Carlson for transport. They were gone within a few minutes, carrying the lifeless figure between them on a spine board. As soon as they had left, escorted by a small contingent of officers, Danny stood and walked back into the clearing, chatting briefly with one of the remaining uniforms before returning. He held out his hand to Don, "Come on, your turn. I'm driving."

"No ambulance?" Don grabbed Danny's wrist and hauled himself to his feet, holding on for a few more seconds until the world righted itself again.

"Nah, not in this weather. It'll be faster if we take you. These guys will stay behind and hold the perimeter, but we've got special permission to get you two out of here."

"How's the girl?" Don asked.

Danny shrugged a shoulder and shook his head. "Hanging in there for now." He gently pushed Don ahead of them as they and an escort of officers started to exit the clearing.

Mac was waiting for them on the trail. He had just slipped his phone back into his pocket and the scowl had yet to leave his face. With his soaking hair plastered to his forehead, and drenched, mud-splattered clothing- now sans jacket- what would normally be a frightening expression just made Mac look miserable. He still kept his right arm close to his chest, where his t-shirt clung to him, contouring to the shape of his protruding ribs and making visible the halting nature of his rapid breaths.

Even Danny kept his mouth shut though a comparison to a drowned rat seemed appropriate. Instead, he shrugged his own jacket off and held it out to his boss. The frown dissolved as Mac accepted the offer with a faint, short-lived smile and swung it around his shoulders. They were told to keep silent and vigilant as they made their way to the parking lot where the Avalanche and several SUVs were waiting.

Danny, Don and Mac climbed into the truck while several officers jumped into a black van and took off to patrol the area.

"They've been told they have another hour before they call off the search. They're only expecting this storm to get worse. According to the news, we're talking tropical storm level." Danny explained. Don briefly wondered where he was getting all of this information when he remembered he had discarded his radio back at the clearing.

"How you doin'?" Mac asked Don, turning in his seat to look back at him.

"I'm alright." Don nodded, then hesitated before asking. "How's your hand?"

Mac scoffed and shook his head. "I should have shot left handed."

Don eyes widened. "You didn't?"

Mac faced forward again as Danny started to pull back onto the road. "Nope..."

Don grimaced. No wonder he was in pain. The kind of force generated by the kickback of handgun was intense on its own. With fractured bones in his hands, the vibration had to be pure agony. He wasn't sure if it could cause more damage, but it was certainly possible. Don would have pushed him on the subject, but Mac's clipped tone was a clear indication that he wouldn't be getting any better response than what he'd already said. Instead he moved to a different subject, equally risky, but Don wanted to know. "Who was on the phone?"

Mac was silent for a few seconds. "Sinclair."

Don winced again. Yelling matches between the Chief of Detectives and the Head of the Crime Lab were a common sight, despite the deep respect they had for each other. In fact, because of that, whoever came out on top was usually a tossup. Any lesser cops would be intimidated into submission, but not Mac. Sinclair held him in higher regard than that. They pushed each other. Usually they just pushed each other's buttons, but they also expected a lot from one another.

Danny spoke up this time. "Sorry, Mac. We should have picked up on this guy. He-."

Mac cut him off. "I don't blame you for that." His tone was anything but reassuring. It could have been that he was in an immense amount of discomfort, but Mac still sounded like he blamed them. He wouldn't berate Don or Danny, because he didn't need to. To Don, it was like getting a disappointed look from his father; far more powerful than any words in making him feel immensely guilty.

Whether or not Mac blamed them at all, and Don doubted he actually did, Don knew that Mac had just taken the fall for them. He'd stepped up between them and Sinclair and had taken the heat for not vetting this guy better back at the precinct, even though Mac hadn't even been there... heck, he hadn't even been awake. And then it hit Don _why_ Mac was so pissed. He had been asleep. They hadn't gotten him up for it. It had seemed like an okay idea at the time, and now Don realized why Danny had been so antsy about telling Mac what they had found.

"So what did he say?" Don asked quietly.

"Assuming this guy gets away-which we are-we're back on the original plan." Mac replied in a flat tone.

"You're bait?" Danny asked, risking a sideways glance as he drove to stare in shock at his boss.

Mac looked back at him. Don could barely make out his expression in the dark interior of the car, but when Mac turned forward again without saying another word, it was answer enough.

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"Well, look on the bright side," Don was saying with a lopsided grin as Stella badged her way through the police detail at the door of the hospital room. "You're not any more broken than you were."

"Can't say the same for you, Flack." Danny quipped, tapping his own head while giving his concussed friend a pointed look.

Mac wasn't as amused at the situation. He sat on a gurney where the head of the bed was raised to nearly 90 degrees. His left arm was wrapped tightly around his chest while his splinted right rested lightly on top of it. Despite the goosebumps sticking out clearly on his pale skin, he had cast aside the blankets and instead sat in nothing but the t shirt and scrub pants the hospital had offered him and Don in replacement of their ruined muddy attire. The remnants of dirt still streaked his face in places. Mac's sullen expression only darkened as he realized Stella had arrived. "I told you not to come. You're supposed to get some sleep."

"You two are admitted to the hospital and you think I'm going to rest comfortably back at the lab?" She asked with a quirked eyebrow at her partner.

"It was worth a shot." Mac shrugged resignedly. "And I was never officially admitted."

"Hey, Stel." Don greeted with a wide smile from the gurney between her and Mac. "Nice to see you, too."

Stella gave him a wry smile, but it softened slightly as she looked the man over. He had significantly more mud smeared across his body and looked like hell. He was also clearly suffering from either the effects of the concussion or drugs, or both. She looked past his bed to Mac's again. "For your protection." Stella countered and held up a clipboard. "And now Don has been discharged. I don't know what Sinclair is thinking, but I'm pretty sure the plan isn't viable anymore."

"Why not?" Mac asked. "If anything, it's more likely to work now than before."

"Maybe because your body guard here has a concussion-,"

"Mild." Don corrected her. "Mild concussion."

Stella continued on with a roll of her eyes, "-and you're what? Spiking a fever now?"

"Mild. It's a mild fever." Mac shrugged, much to Don's and Danny's amusement. "They gave me antibiotics."

He left out that he had been given antibiotics earlier that day and simply neglected to take them. Stella had gathered as much anyways. She only had the energy to fight one battle at a time. After visiting the hospital earlier that day, Mac had been too exhausted to eat, and he needed to take food with the antibiotics. She figured after some sleep she could get him to, but with Williams' call, it had slipped her mind. Apparently that had been far too late and the infection Hawkes had been warning them about had finally set into Mac's lacerated hand. She blamed herself for that. Mac had hardly been coherent enough to be responsible for it.

"And now you should rest." Stella said, her hands on her hips.

"What do you think I'm doing here?" Mac asked, an edge to his voice that clearly expressed his feelings on the situation.

"Well, according to Sinclair, you're both supposed to leave here and not go to a safe house, but to end up at Don's apartment?"

"Yeah, to sleep, with units watching the place." Mac assured her. "And yes, we're hoping he makes a move there, and we're ready for it, but chances are he won't tonight."

Stella sighed. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'm just worried."

Mac flashed her a reassuring smile. "What have you found out at the lab?"

"Carlson's clothes have come up clean except for a trace we're still trying to identify. It's similar to something Hawkes found in Chase's BMW, so we're still looking into it. Aside from that, we still don't have a single scrap of physical evidence tying Allen Williams to any of these murders."

"What about the conference he was supposed to be at?" Mac asked.

"Oh we have plenty of circumstantial evidence, but the only thing linking him directly is what he said to you." Stella had been thinking about that in particular, and it made her feel slightly sick. With Carlson still in surgery and her less than favorable chances of coming out of it alive, Mac was the only witness they had against Williams. Don had been there, but was out cold for the confrontation. In fact, at that moment, Don was very close to falling asleep yet again. Stella walked around his bed to stand next to Mac's. Danny also shifted closer.

"Have you figured out Carlson's involvement yet?" Mac asked, his tone growing increasingly hopeless.

"Still working on that." Stella sighed with a shake of her head. "What do you think he meant when he said she went soft on him?"

Mac bit his lip. He'd of course been mulling that very thought over in his head for the last few hours. "We know it was her who brought the phone in. My guess is that was her way of trying to help. It was her phone she gave us, so she wanted us to know it was her. The pictures of my apartment were transferred to her phone from somewhere else, so I'm guessing she did it without Williams' knowledge and showed them to me as a warning."

"So it was Williams who went to your apartment." Danny spoke up.

Mac nodded, a grim look taking over his thoughtful expression. "He said I clued him in to the fact that she was trying to warn me. I don't know how."

"But he did admit that she helped him at first?"

"Yeah… and then something changed her mind." Mac chewed on his lip again.

"Well, listen," Stella said as she sat on the edge of the gurney. "I've got the lab side of this handled. We'll figure out where she was and what she was involved with, and do the same for Williams. You just stay safe and get this guy."

Another smile split the thin hard line of his mouth as Mac nodded.

"Does Don really have to be a part of this?" Stella tilted her head toward the adjacent bed where the subject of her comment was definitely sleeping.

Mac grinned. "I'd say no, but he has the keys."

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Thirty minutes later, a team was getting ready to escort Mac and Don from the hospital. Danny would be accompanying them, but only as backup again. Mac wanted as little visual presence of the units as possible, and that included having only Don with Mac and no one else as to not scare Williams off.

Danny was just finding a creative way to wake Don up when Mac got the call.

"Boss!"

"Adam." Mac greeted with a wince, pulling the phone from his ear slightly as the excited voice went on.

"I'm sorry about earlier, I should have known the signal was too weak and-."

"It's alright, Adam. What did you find?"

"You know how you told me to track the other victim's phones?" Adam rushed on without waiting for a response. "They weren't giving off signals at the time, but one just popped online ten minutes ago."

Mac dropped the phone from his ear. "Danny, change of plans."

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A/N: More action to come very soon. Please review and thank you for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews as always! They keep me going. You have no idea how happy it makes me to see them.

I'm just going to stop calling these things fillers, because apparently I think unless somebody is getting shot, it's a filler.

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"Hey, Linds, I thought you were off." Stella greeted as she exited the elevator, sidestepping the Montanan who seemed to have been waiting for her.

Lindsay spun on her heel and quickly followed her. "I was, but it's Hawkes' turn now." She explained. "We want to stick this thing through."

"We could definitely use the help." Stella said gratefully.

"How are Mac and Don?"

"Last I checked, Flack was asleep and Mac was debating whether or not to abandon him."

"Sounds like them." Lindsay grinned.

"Yeah, they're doing fine." Stella said exasperatedly with a roll of her eyes. "What did you find?"

"I checked into the cases Williams has worked at the firm, and it turns out he's dealt with both Cheryl Fields _and_ Danielle Vance."

Stella looked at her in surprise. "The 2nd and 3rd vics?"

"Exactly." Lindsay pushed open the glass door to the AV lab where Adam was eagerly talking into a headset while enthusiastically abusing a keyboard. Stella watched with interest until Lindsay approached another bank of computers and brought up the court case files onto a screen. "Williams was assisting on a child support case defending Cheryl Fields' ex-boyfriend. They lost, and the ex didn't have the money to pay."

"He was the one Don and Mac went to talk to yesterday. He killed himself two months ago… we sure it was a suicide?"

Lindsay shrugged one shoulder. "Case looks solid. He walked in front of a bus. Now Danielle Vance is a different story. Williams was representing Mr. Vance in a divorce settlement."

Stella cocked her head in confusion. "He didn't mention that when we talked to him today- yesterday…" She glanced at her watch. Barely yesterday.

"That's because when Danielle found out she was pregnant, they called it off. They went to counseling, worked out their problems and got back together. The papers never actually went through."

Stella only looked more puzzled, her eyebrows drawn in, wrinkling her forehead. "Okay, so we have one couple broken up by a kid and one brought together by a kid, but both mothers are killed. How does that work?"

"He lost clients?" Lindsay suggested hesitantly. "But that wouldn't explain killing Amy Chase."

Stella brought her fingers to her lips thoughtfully. "So he might have something against getting pregnant… or maybe he's protecting these men from the women somehow..." Stella quickly shook her head. "I don't know. We need more. Is there anything that sets those two cases apart from his others?"

"They're the two most recent involving a new child. He doesn't get a high load of cases in general. He mostly assists. He just got hired a year ago."

"I want you to look into everyone he's dealt with in that year. Focus on cases involving kids. I want to know if any of these women were pregnant or are pregnant."

Lindsay nodded as she settled into a chair in front of the computer. "The only problem is finding out who's pregnant now. I can't get that information without talking to them directly and it's one in the morning."

"Do what you can for now." She said, letting out a sigh. "Hopefully anyone at risk isn't out running around at this hour-." She was cut off as Adam's voice filled the AV lab.

"Looks like its last signal came from inside a bakery, Mac. You can get there in ten minutes."

"I spoke too soon." Stella groaned. "Get on that, Linds." She said over her shoulder as she strode across the room toward Adam.

"Sorry, Boss, that's all I got… Well, normally could, but I tried that and the phone has to be dead or have the battery removed because it's not working." Adam explained animatedly as he swiveled back and forth in his chair. "…The other phone has the same problem… Yes, it's probably safe to say he'd have to be close. He'd have to put the battery in and take it out to get the readings I did."

"What's going on, Adam?" Stella asked, coming up behind the tech and peering over his shoulder at the GPS layout on his screen.

The poor kid almost toppled out of his chair in surprise. "Whoa! Hi, there, sorry." He caught himself on the desk and adjusting his Bluetooth headset. "Nothing, Mac, it's just Stella." Adam tilted his head back to look up at her. "Danielle Vance's phone just popped up on the grid." He explained. "Mac's going after it."

"Flack with him?"

Adam tilted the earpiece again. "Is Flack with you?" He paused and then lifted his head again. "Nope, but Danny is. You're going to have to bring him a donut to make up for that."

Stella quirked an eyebrow at him. "What?"

Adam motioned to the headset as though it were obvious. "I was talking to Mac."

Stella pulled the Bluetooth out of Adam's ear and reached over him to put the phone on speaker. "Mac?"

"Hey, Stel."

"I got some information on Williams for you." She quickly relayed what Lindsay had found to him. "Does that help explain this guy to you at all?"

Mac was silent for a few seconds. "He said he was on a mission; trying to make a point, but wouldn't tell me what it was." He hesitated before hurrying on. "At least this gives us a place to start. Where are you on getting a warrant for his apartment?"

"Already signed and on its way. Can't say the judge was too happy about the hour, though."

"At least he signed it. That's why I had you call. Banks would have hung up as soon as I said 'hello'. What about Carlson's involvement? Anything new on that?"

"I have to admit, it's not high on our list of priorities right now." Stella said, placing her hands on her hips.

"Give it to someone from the night shift then. If we can figure out when she turned it can help us with motive and figuring out what we can get Williams for. Hawkes took casts of footprints at the park we can compare. Also try a voice print analysis on all communications we have."

"I can do that." Adam said, perking up in his seat.

"After this, Adam. Focus. We're only a couple of minutes out now."

"Be careful, Mac." Stella pleaded.

"Backup is already on scene, Stel. Last time this happened it was a decoy."

"Williams' theme is escalation, Mac. First it's a decoy, and then he's meeting you in the park with a gun."

Mac heaved a sigh, and Stella could just picture him wearily dragging a hand down his face. "I'll be careful." He paused as Danny's voice could be heard telling him something. "I've got to go for a minute here. When Don wakes up, tell him to call me ASAP."

"Considering how pissed he's going to be that you left him behind, he'll probably call you first." Stella said.

She heard Mac laugh lightly before he hung up. Stella exhaled slowly, consciously controlling her breathing to calm her nerves. She placed a hand on Adam's shoulder, giving one last glance at the screen where a blinking green dot was quickly nearing a stationary red one. "Keep me updated. I'm taking Scagnetti to Williams' apartment with me."

"You got it." Adam nodded. "Be careful." He added awkwardly.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Mac uncomfortably adjusted his jacket again and winced as the stiff, plastic-like fabric stuck to the flushed skin of his bare arms. The navy NYPD windbreaker was meant to be nothing more than a shell, but Mac was running low on clothes that hadn't fallen victim to the weather and he also hadn't been able to go to his apartment with Danny to instruct him on what clothes _not_ to bring him. In retrospect, sending Danny had been a bad idea, but he hadn't had much of a choice after being released from the hospital in nothing but scrubs and a t shirt.

The driver's side door swung open, letting in a muggy breeze that warned of the coming storm. Danny climbed in and settled into the seat. "You got another tag." He said, nodding to the dark-wash jeans Mac was wearing.

With a frustrated sigh, Mac looked down at his hip and spotted the paper tag—the third tag, if he remembered correctly—and snapped it off of the waistband. "There's a reason I never wore these, Danny."

"What, 'cause they're not a suit, or taking off the tags was too much work?" He laughed and stopped immediately when he saw Mac's face. "They look fine." He hurried on and held out a black leather holster, gun already secured inside. "It's a lefty." He explained. "So you're not tempted to shoot with that hand again."

Mac's scowl faded to a faint smile as his cheeks burned. "Thanks…" He secured it to his belt, over the spot the price tag had recently resided, and nodded out the windshield into an alley. In the faint light of an orange-hued streetlamp, a team of six fully geared up officers were huddled together. "How much longer?"

"Just another minute and they'll be ready."

"You going with them?"

"And leave you out here alone? Not a chance." He scoffed. "I got my orders."

Mac quirked up an eyebrow. "I'm not going anywhere." He said innocently.

Danny mirrored his expression. "I don't think that's the issue here."

Mac fought a roll of his eyes and rubbed his hand across his forehead, surprised to find a light sheen of sweat there. He quickly swiped his fingers on his pants leg. The AC in the truck had been going before- much to Danny's chagrin, though he said nothing about it- but since the car had been shut off, the heat had risen quickly and the jacket was insulting him like an oven. Of course he only thought this to convince himself that it was the jacket's problem and Danny's for grabbing it, and not his for letting the last few hours get to him. He could blame being sick and no one would question him on it, but he'd pushed aside a broken hand for 24 hours. A mild temperature shouldn't faze him at all… and yet it was driving him crazy.

Mac suddenly leaned forward and fought to shrug the jacket off one handed before throwing it into the space under the dash board. He had only a loose black t shirt on now. The air on his skin offered a brief reprieve from the stifling heat, and his racing mind seemed to slow its frantic pace for a moment.

Danny cautiously watched as his boss pinched his eyes shut and gave the jacket a final kick to untangle it from his feet where it had fallen. Awkwardly, Danny cleared his throat. "You know we can turn the air back on if you want."

Mac dropped his hand from his eyes and cast a sidelong glance at the man. Seeing Danny's barely concealed concern, Mac expression softened and he exhaled long and slow from his nose. "Yeah, thanks."

Danny turned the key, but left the engine off. Immediately, a blast of cool air came through the vents and Mac unconsciously sunk into his seat in relief. Danny directed his vents toward the passenger side with a quick flick and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. Mac didn't realize it as he shut his eyes to wait. He felt a chill run down his back and shivered slightly, but didn't mind in the least. His skin was tight with goose bumps and it felt like heaven.

"Looks like we're going in." Danny suddenly said, turning over the ignition.

Mac's eyes snapped open and he looked out the windshield to see the team was climbing into a black SUV parked in front of them. Danny pulled out behind them as they started down the street. The signal to the phone was dead, but the last location had been an address a block away. The officers would go in quick and quiet- no chances taken- while Danny and Mac waited for the all clear to go in. Mac still didn't expect them to find anything. This was just another part of the game. Williams could play this all night if he wanted. All he had to do was keep placing the two phones all over the city and Mac would have to check every site they popped up.

The SUV suddenly sped up and skidded to a stop just outside the doors of a quaint looking family-owned bakery. The Avalanche pulled up across the street alongside the curb to watch and wait. In a second, the glass door had broken in and the team filed through. A radio on the dashboard of the Avalanche squawked with the directions of the lead officer as he guided the team through the building.

Danny leaned forward in his seat, hand on his hip, ready to run in at the first sound of trouble. Mac, on the other hand, was suddenly drawn to a neon sign a few shop fronts away. The street was mostly dark except for this one establishment. That could easily explain why he was fixated on it, but that wasn't it…

"We got an all clear down here." The radio suddenly crackled, drawing Mac's attention back to the dashboard where it sat. "One more sweep and you're clear to enter."

Danny lifted the radio. "10-4. Mac- Mac?"

Mac had popped open his door and was stepping out onto the sidewalk. Danny quickly leapt out, clipping the radio to his belt and hurried around to the other side of the truck. "Where you goin'? They're not done yet."

Mac nodded up at the neon sign and without a word, started towards it.

Danny jogged up next to him and looked up at the sign again. "Right now? Really?" He spun around and started walking backwards as he tried to keep ahead of his boss. "What are you gonna do? Get a drink? Do you drink?"

Mac barely glanced at him and his steps didn't falter as he dryly explained, "Yeah, scotch. Think I can get it to go?"

Danny stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk and was forced to jog to catch up again. "Seriously, what's going on? What do I tell Hawkins?"

Mac stopped, his hand on the brass handle of a heavy wooden door. "I'll be there in a minute. Wait outside."

"Whoa, Mac." Danny slapped his palm against the door, holding it shut. "Are you okay?"

Mac blew out a breath. "It's related to the case, Danny. I just need you to wait out here."

Danny looked back at him, the internal battle going on was playing out on his face. "Okay, fine, just wait here a second." Danny dropped his hand from the door and jogged back toward the truck, looking back over his shoulder to make sure Mac hadn't moved. He reached into the cab and came out with something draped over his arm. As he approached Mac, the radio at his belt crackled again. "Give us a few minutes and we'll be there." Danny said into it.

"Why don't you go start and I'll join you when I'm done." Mac suggested.

"Nice try." He held out the charcoal grey zip-up hoodie he'd pulled from the truck. "In case you need it. A shield and badge might draw more attention than you want."

Mac hesitated and took it from him, then looked up and nodded back toward the Avalanche. "You keep all your clothes in there?"

"Just the ones I'm hiding from Flack." Danny replied with a smirk.

A small Yankees logo was sewn in over the left breast. "You sure this isn't more liable to get me shot?" He asked, eyebrow raised.

Danny grinned. "Now you know why I hide it from Flack."

Mac nodded, allowing himself to smile. "Thanks."

"No problem. Hurry back." Danny pulled open the door for him and Mac stepped through, pulling one of the sleeves on over his splint.

The bar wasn't very crowded, though there were still a significant amount of people there, spread out at various tables and in booths along the right wall. It was popular as a sports bar during the day. Antique athletic equipment was hung on the walls as decoration. Everything else was made of weathered wood. Mac appreciated that simply because it dampened the noise caused by loud patrons. The lighting was low, but the hanging lamps cast enough light to make it easy to see where he was going.

Mac headed straight for the bar, narrowly avoiding a tipsy woman who staggered into a support beam a second later. Her friends' laughter echoed behind him as he stepped up to the bar and tried to flag down a busy bartender.

"Just a sec." He said, turning his head toward Mac without looking at him, instead focused on mixing whatever drink he had.

Mac turned and leaned against the bar so he could get a better look at the establishment's customers. He scanned every face unconsciously, picked up useless tiny details about some of them…

Suddenly, a hand was on his shoulder, spinning him around. Mac's right hand automatically went up to break the grip when he spotted the burly man looming over him. He was a little taller than Don and three times as wide, and all of it muscle. He had cropped blonde hair that was barely visible on the sides of his massive head and grew out only half an inch on the top.

Mac dropped his hand and smiled. "Hey, Stu."

"Mac! It's good to see you." The giant beamed. "You want a drink?"

_Yes, actually._ "I can't. I'm working."

Stu glanced down at Mac's hip where a holster was hidden under his sweatshirt. In a split second, he was grinning again. "I see. Something going on here I don't know about?"

There was a sudden uproar from the corner at the far end of the bar where a group of men and women in their mid-twenties were playing darts. Mac and Stu both snapped their heads around to check out the sound and then relaxed again. "No, not that I know of." Mac continued. "I actually need to ask you some questions about-," he hesitated, "-a couple weeks ago."

Stu's smile faltered, but only for a moment. "Sure, why we go over here?" Even moderately drunk patrons quickly scurried to get out of the big man's way as he cross the bar and slid into a booth in the corner. Mac slipped in opposite, and looked across the table at Stu who was studying him. "You look like hell."

Mac let out a short laugh. "Yeah, I do. Thank you."

Stu chuckled, a sound that vibrated the table. He had deep laugh lines around his mouth, but not a soul believed the man was in his mid-forties. Mac knew him fairly well, and might actually refer to him as a friend. Stewart Kearney had been an Army Ranger who was discharged around the same time as Mac had been from the Marines. He'd gotten a job at this bar as a bouncer and worked his way up until he and his wife had bought the place a few years ago and tailored it to their liking. It was a favorite of local cops, and Mac had been coming ever since.

"You're limping, you've got- what's that there? Broken wrist?"

Mac absently pulled the sleeve down over the splint though his arms were under the table. "Hand."

"You punch somebody?"

Mac shifted uncomfortably. If there was one thing about Stu it was that he liked to talk… a lot. And he was observant enough to pick out something about everyone to talk to them about. It probably came from a combination of his military and bartending days. Because most normal people liked to talk about themselves, they felt comfortable around Stu. Mac didn't like to talk about himself, but he usually wasn't annoyed by it because he was fairy adept at hiding what he wanted to. Apparently not tonight. "No, but I'm going to start telling people I did." He muttered.

Stu barked out a laugh. "Alright then, what's on your mind?"

Only mildly grateful for the change of subject, Mac began, "Do you remember when I came in about two weeks ago?"

The normally constantly smiling man was wearing a tight-lipped frown now. "Yes."

"Did I talk to anyone? Or was anyone hanging around that seemed odd?"

Stu frowned thoughtfully. "Aside from Detective Flack, I don't recall anyone talking to you, no."

Mac's face fell. Either he owed Don lunch or he was becoming paranoid.

"-But," Mac's eyes snapped up again as Stu went on. "There was a guy- it's funny you mention it actually- he just came in about an hour ago. I remember seeing him the same night you came in because well… you two seemed to have a similar reason for bein' there... He's a good looking guy, your height, short brown hair, blue eyes. You left maybe five minutes after he got there. He sat a few seats away, nursed the same drink for an hour and then left."

Mac sat straight up in his seat, "You said he was here tonight?"

Stu nodded and reached into his pants pocket. "Came by no more than an hour ago." He pulled his hand out of his pocket and laid something on the table. "Gave me that. Said he found it last time he was here and forgot to bring it in. He actually suggested it was yours, which I thought was odd. Something was off about him."

Mac reached over and pulled a napkin out of a dispenser on the table and used it to slide the object toward him. It was a cell phone. "He said it was mine?"

"Well, he said he didn't know whose it was but it might be the guy he was sitting by who left. That was you." Stu was watching Mac with interest as he continued using the napkin to turn the phone over and press a few keys. The phone remained off. "What's going on? This guy a criminal?"

"Person of interest." Mac replied absently as he pried the back of the phone off. There was no battery, but there was a small, folded slip of paper which he read and then immediately stuffed into his pocket along with the phone and the napkin.

"You need anything else from me?" Stu asked, trying not to look too curious.

Mac shook his head and slid out of his seat. "No, this is perfect."

"No problem, but listen, you get some sleep. Looks like you have had a good one in days."

Mac was about to hold out his hand to shake, remembered the splint and simply said. "Thanks again, Stu."

Danny spun around as the large wooden door swung open. "Hawkins is waiting-." He stopped, noting the expression on Mac's face. "You find something?"

Mac used the napkin to pull the phone out gain. "Yeah, this."

Danny stared at it, perplexed until his eyes slowly widened. "Wait, is that the phone? THE phone?"

He slipped it back into the pocket of the sweatshirt. "Don't know for sure. There's no battery, but I'd say it's a safe bet." He started walking back toward the truck.

"How did you know? Why'd you go in there?" Danny asked.

"Bar owner says he saw a man matching Williams' description in there an hour ago and he left the phone." Mac said, ignoring Danny's questions.

"Why there?"

"So I'd find it." Mac answered vaguely. "Go process the bakery, I have to take this to Adam."

Danny paused, "Mac..."

"Go, Danny." Mac said again, pulling open the driver's side door.

"But the guy was in the bar." He protested.

"But the signal came from the bakery. He was there. Find out why." Mac reached into the back seat, pulled out Danny's kit and handed it to him.

Danny reluctantly took it. "I'm not supposed to-"

"I'm driving back to the lab. You don't need to follow me."

"Then I'll take the phone. You process." Danny shrugged, his frustration with his boss evident in his clipped tone. "You obviously know something I don't."

"Go process." Mac climbed in and slammed the door shut. He drove off, leaving Danny standing in the middle of the street.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

A/N: Yeah, Mac's up to something... Please review, thanks for reading!


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! I absolutely love hearing from new people, and then of course, the ever faithful reviewers I can always count on to make my day.

Now, I tried to cut this chapter out, and I ended up not doing that...so naturally I despise it for defying me. Just hold judgement until the end. It's all happening for a reason...supposedly. Get ready for unwarranted angst.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Stella had been vacillating between worried and downright angry for so long that the two emotions had finally hybridized and were no longer distinguishable from one another. For instance, at the moment of hearing that Danny had watched Mac drive off over an hour ago, she had immediately been concerned for Mac- who was obviously losing it or was about to—but that anxiety had expressed itself as an outburst of fury that left Adam quivering at his computer. She had apologized over and over again, internally citing her need for either strong coffee or a long nap.

She had received neither, and now Danny was the next unlucky target. At this rate, she and Mac would both end up in a padded cell somewhere. "What the _hell _where you thinking?" She snapped into the phone, pacing behind Adam who was trying to track down the Avalanche's signal.

_"Well, I was thinking 'Mac's my boss and a grown man who can take care of himself and isn't stupid enough to go do something that's going to get him killed.'"_

"You had orders, Danny-."

_"That I could only follow up to a certain point. The man has rights, Stella. What did you want me to do? Arrest him?"_

Stella almost exclaimed 'Yes! At least then I'd know where he is!', but knew Danny was right. Mac had been voluntarily accepting his detail without protest. It had caused the rest of them to let their guard down. To think that Mac had taken advantage of that make her stomach churn. She wanted to continue yelling at Danny in place of Mac, but the younger CSI sounded worked up enough. He was blaming himself and worried about his boss. As much as the two argued, Stella knew Danny had nothing but respect for Mac, even regarded him as a father-figure. He had, after all, given Danny a chance that no one else would have and put up with him through all his hot-headed rebellions.

Forcing herself to breathe and count to five, Stella finally responded in a much softer tone, "No. I'm sorry. What did he do before he left?"

_"He wouldn't come into the bakery. Instead he went into a bar just down the street. He wouldn't let me come in, and I couldn't stop him, so I waited outside. Five minutes later he waltzes out with the phone. He wouldn't tell me anything and then he left."_ Danny paused and let out a growl of frustration as he muttered angrily to himself,_ "He said he was going back to the lab."_

Stella stopped her pacing. "Why a bar?" Mac didn't drink often and he would die before he drank on the job.

Danny blew out a breath. _"I don't know. He wouldn't say. I asked him why the phone was there and all he would tell me was Williams put it there so he would find it. It doesn't make sense."_

"What bar was it?"

_"Kearney's. I know of it. I didn't know Mac liked to go there."_

"Yeah, he's friends with the owner." Stella explained absently as her mind wandered over what Mac could be doing. "Did you get back into the bar and try to talk to someone?"

_"Yeah, I tried. Bartender said the guy Mac was talking to went home. He did mention it was the owner when I asked."_

"I'll find his number and call him." Stella said, finding her way to a nearby computer. Her hands hovered over the keys as she racked her brain. Why was Mac in the bar? Why would the phone be there? What on earth did he mean by 'so he would find it'?

_"There's something else you should know."_ Danny said, interrupting her racing thoughts. _"There was an apartment above the bakery. They weren't connected, so we didn't think about it. Turns out a couple lives up there. The husband called 911 when they heard the team go in to the bakery, which they own." _Danny hesitated. _"A woman was staying with them, the wife's sister. Her name is Ruth Harcrow. She's pregnant. I don't know if it's relevant, but seems like something we should check into."_

Stella was already crossing the AV lab to where Lindsay was working diligently at a bank of computers filled with court case files and DMV records. "Lindsay, cross-check this name with those files: Ruth Harcrow."

It only took a few seconds. Lindsay slid her finger across the screen as she read. "She's here. Divorced her husband six months ago. Allen Williams assisted." Lindsay frowned and spun around to face Stella. "Her address hadn't been updated so nothing came up when I cross-refed the bakery."

Stella lifted the phone back to her ear, surprised to find her body had enough adrenaline left to release into her system. "Yes, it's relevant Danny. She was another one of William's cases. We need to question her."

_"She's on her way to the precinct as we speak. I'm processing the apartment. Stel… If she is part of this, why isn't she dead?"_

Stella shook her head, having a horrible feeling that it had something to do with Mac's sudden disappearance. "Let's just be grateful she's not."

"Stella!"

She turned to see Adam frantically waving her over. "Tell me what you find, Danny." She ended the call quickly and jogged over to the tech. "Did you find him?"

"Uh, yes…" He was about to turn back to the computer when he froze.

"What? Where is he?"

Adam nodded his head once, his eyes wide. Stella continued staring at him. He lifted a single finger and pointed behind her.

Stella whirled around. Through the glass partition dividing the AV lab from the hallway, she saw Mac, nonchalantly walking up the steps toward his office, one hand in the pocket of an unzipped dark grey sweatshirt. Before she even knew what she was doing, Stella had thrown open the door and was closing in on Mac with such speed and determination that when he caught sight of her, he took a step back in surprise.

She stopped suddenly only a foot away as Mac looked down at her with a mix of apprehension and confusion. "What-?"

Her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. "What? That's it?"

Mac's mouth open and shut a few times until he finally kept it shut. A wise move on his part, Stella thought. She was between hugging him and slapping him and anything he said would probably push her towards one or the other—slapping him being the most likely outcome considering he was still staring at her, completely clueless. It took a lot of control and restraint, but she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Where have you been? Why weren't you answering your phone?"

"I didn't-," He pulled out his phone from a pocket in his jeans and checked the screen. "Sorry, I didn't hear it."

A 'sorry'. That was a good start.

"The roads were blocked." He continued.

"So it took you an hour and a half to drive here from Kearney's?" Stella said doubtfully.

"Have you looked outside? They closed the FDR."

"I _was_ outside. I went to check out Williams' apartment." Stella shot back. The weather was admittedly getting worse by the hour, and while she hadn't had to drive nearly as far as Mac, the slightly flooded roads and slowly swelling winds weren't anything that would increase travel time by more than an hour. Before she could point out the holes in his story, he cut her off.

"What did you find?" Mac asked eagerly.

She exhaled rather loudly and looked up at him through hooded eyes. "We took his lap top and a few other items, but the place was almost empty. I don't think he stays there much. I did manage to pull a few prints and hopefully got some DNA, but we have nothing to compare it to."

"Get anything off the computer?"

"It's password protected. I was going to get Adam to work on it until he told me that you had ditched Danny and hadn't shown up yet. After that I was a little distracted." She ended, a distinct edge to her tone as she emphasized the last word.

Mac had the intelligence to look remorseful and put a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry I worried you. I didn't mean to."

Still smoldering, but slightly pacified, Stella's expression softened. "So you're okay?"

"Fine." Mac nodded.

Not about to take him at his word, she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. Mac didn't even try to brush it off, but took it obediently.

"Satisfied?" He asked, one corner of his mouth twitching into a wry smile.

"Hardly." Stella said, wiping her hand off on her pants leg and then placing it on her hip. "Tell me about the bar."

Mac frowned and looked around before tilting his head toward his office. She followed him inside and he shut the door. "Remember what William's said on the phone?" He asked as he turned to face her.

"About Claire?" She asked softly.

He nodded, a barely visible movement as he cast his eyes to the ground. "He knows."

Stella shook her head. "Mac, you're reading into it. He's just trying to throw you off-."

"No he's not. He was there."

Stella stopped and dipped her head, trying to find Mac's eyes. "There? What do you mean?"

He continued to stare at the floor and shifted his jaw. "Two weeks ago, at the bar…when I… He heard me say it."

"Who did you tell, Mac?" She prodded.

He finally met her eyes. "Flack."

Stella raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You told Flack?"

"Not on purpose." Mac muttered. He took a deep breath and shook his head. "Stu identified him. Said he was there two weeks ago and tonight, just before I got there. He gave him this." Mac dug into his pocket and pulled out a phone, wrapped in a thin, paper napkin.

Stella took it from him and unwrapped it, careful not to touch it with her bare fingers. "That's it?"

Mac put his hand back into his pocket. "That's it. There's no battery."

"I'll get it to a tech." She looked back up at Mac and frowned. "You said he was there a couple of weeks ago. Was this guy stalking you before all of this started?"

Mac shook his head. "No, Stu said he looked like he was there for-… his own reasons. Two weeks ago was when he found out Amy Chase was pregnant."

Stella suddenly felt a sharp pain in her chest as her heart seemed to literally ache. The juxtaposition of the two men on that day was hard to ignore. One was lamenting the pregnancy of his fiancée. The other was mourning the loss of not only his wife, but a life he never knew he had. "There was a family living above the bakery." Stella said, changing the subject with an awkward roll of her shoulders. "One was a potential victim. She's okay. We're not quite sure why, though. She's being questioned now."

Mac wearily shrugged one shoulder. "I don't know. He's probably just messing with us. Showing his control."

Stella studied Mac, his slumped shoulders and defeated expression. "I'm worried about you." He looked up, meeting her searching eyes. "This is personal for you, and you're lying to me about where you were."

Mac chewed on his lip, not bothering to deny it. He dropped his head and took a shaky breath before he looked up at her again, fighting to meet her gaze this time. "I just don't want… _that…_ in a file." He swallowed and glanced around the room again before he could look at her again.

Stella's face fell. "Mac, if it's relevant-."

"It's _not_." He said, his usually authoritative tone lacking any real conviction. It sounded to Stella like he was almost pleading with her, trying to convince her instead of telling her what it was like he often did. "I'm the lead on his case. That's reason enough for him to target me. It doesn't matter if this sick bastard thinks we have something in common."

"They're going to ask why you knew to go into that bar, Mac. Danny's already asking questions." Stella explained gently.

Mac stared at her, unable to hide the shock and disbelief in his eyes. "You're suggesting I tell everybody? It's not going to happen."

"So you'll lie?"

Mac clenched his jaw and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. He broke eye contact as he inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. "We were at a bar at the same time. My reasons are irrelevant. That's not lying."

"Mac…" Stella twisted her hands together. "I don't want to tell anyone-."

"Then don't." Mac said simply, his green eyes boring into her, silently begging her.

"They won't kick you off the case for this, Mac. They already know Williams has an interest in you and you're probably the key to catching him, but you can get in serious trouble if you don't say anything and they find out. You don't _know _the significance of this. These are the rules you push on us all the time. You have to disclose personal connections-."

"They're _not_ going to find out."

It was Stella's turn to look shocked. That had been the last thing she had expected to hear from Mac. He was always the one pushing rules, excluding emotions from cases, and here she was, emotional herself, but having to explain something to Mac that he already knew and was ignoring. "But I know now, and I'm part of the case. I have to-."

"Then you're off the case."

Stella froze. "What?"

"You're off the case." He said again, his expression hard. "It's not your problem anymore."

"That's not how it works." Stella sighed. She didn't want to be on this side of the argument. Hell, she didn't entirely agree with her side of the argument, but someone had to fill in for the real Mac who was currently absent from this conversation. "What if he contacts you again and says it outright? How far are you going to go to cover that up?"

Mac shook his head. He couldn't look at her anymore. "If it comes into play, I will deal with it."

"Mac…" She was surprised to hear her voice break. Great, she was supposed to be the strong one here, and she was failing miserably. "It's not going to change anything if they know, but if they find out you knew and didn't say anything…"

"And the only way they'll find out is if you tell them." He reluctantly met her eyes again. He had to fight to control his voice. "_I_ didn't want to know. I sure as hell don't want them to."

Stella felt tears start to sting in her eyes and looked away. There was nothing else she could say. Mac had made up his mind, and when that happened…

"Go home." He said quietly. He stopped her as she opened her mouth to protest. "I was going to tell you to anyways. Everybody else has had a break today except for you. Go home. Sleep. We'll put you on a different case tomorrow." Mac moved away from the door and sunk onto his couch.

The last thing she wanted to do was leave, but Stella knew when she'd reached the end of the road with Mac. Arguing anymore right now wouldn't get her anywhere. "I won't say anything." Mac turned to look at her but didn't speak, so she stepped out and let the door swing shut behind her. She watched through the window as Mac immediately leaned forward onto his knees and covered his face with his hand. She found herself watching him until he sat up a minute later and leaned back against the couch. Not wanting him to turn and see her watching him, she stepped back and walked away.

Stella still had the phone in her hand, so she stopped in the AV lab to hand it off to Adam. "Make sure someone looks this over, and you get to work on Williams' lap top. I'm heading out."

Adam took the phone and followed her eyes as she looked back at Mac's office. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just do your job, Adam." She patted his shoulder.

"Stel-. We just got a call." Lindsay said, walking up beside her. "Jaycie Carlson just passed away."

She knew it was coming and her heart still sunk. "Go tell Mac."

"You don't want to be the one?" Lindsay asked hesitantly.

"I'm on another case now. We've been shoving the cases off on other labs, but now they're swamped. We have to take this one." She lied easily.

"You need help?"

Stella shook her head. "I've got it. Go tell Mac."

Lindsay wasn't that easily fooled. "Is something wrong?"

Stella shook her head and forced a smile. "No, just…keep an eye on him, okay?"

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Mac looked around the conference room at his half-conscious coworkers. Lindsay was by far the most alert, sitting up straight in her seat and watching Mac with bright eyes. Sheldon was stifling yawns every few seconds. He had just barely returned from his break, and was still waking up. Danny looked awake enough at first glance, but his half-closed eyes kept snapping open in time with his head bobbing up from his chest. Adam had stopped trying and was softly snoring with his head resting on the table, hidden behind an open lap top.

"Adam." Mac called as he took his seat at the head of the table.

"It's in the dishwasher..." came the slurred reply.

Sheldon stopped yawning to turn and raise an eyebrow, Lindsay pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle and Danny simply snorted in laughter. It was nearing 5am, and well into that time of the morning when delirium made everything seem funny.

"Adam." Mac said again, a little louder, this time to no response. "Danny?"

Danny, who was sitting next to the sleeping tech, suddenly seemed very awake as he gladly reached over and slapped the lap top shut, narrowly avoiding closing it on Adam's fingers.

Adam's head jerked up from the table as he blurted, "Repeat the question?" His eyes came into focus to find Mac looking back at him. "Sorry, Boss..." he muttered, wiping drool from the side of his face.

"You with us, Adam?" Mac asked, expertly hiding his own amusement. The tech nodded, embarrassedly noting the smirks on his colleagues' faces. "Good. We'll start with you. What did you find?"

Adam cleared his throat and fumbled to open the lap top again with a sidelong glare at Danny. "Okay, there isn't much that I could get into. I can tell from a browsing history that he's been looking into the firm's records a lot in the past two weeks-more so than usual. I can't see which ones. This particular system is different from court case files we've been looking at, so we need separate permission to see these."

"We're working on that." Mac nodded. "It'll take us until the firm opens at least. Anything else?"

"He has encrypted documents I'm still trying to get into. It'll take me a while, but I'm going to say this is probably his work lab top and he's got a personal computer around somewhere. Stella said he probably didn't live at that apartment much, so wherever he does stay is where we're going to find it."

"What makes you say that?" Mac asked.

"Well the guy has a Facebook page, but he's never accessed that or anything else less than professional on here."

"We find anything on where he might be staying?"

"I'm working on it." Lindsay spoke up. "We just received access to his financial records and are going through those. I also got the report back from the phone. It does belong to Danielle Vance. It was also clean. Based on the prints Stella pulled, Williams' aren't on it. He was probably wearing gloves. There was however, a text saved in the drafts that never sent. It was the one addressed to you that said he did you a favor and he expects you to return it."

"I didn't hear about that one." Danny spoke up.

"That's what meetings are for." Mac said. "What did you get?"

Danny stretched and pulled a file toward him and flipped it open. "Uh, okay, Ruth Harcrow moved in with her sister and brother-in-law during the divorce and has stayed with them ever since. She didn't even know who Williams was. She didn't recognize him or see him around. Nobody's been following her or sending her messages. From my sweep of the apartment, Williams didn't even try to get in. So what exactly is this favor he wants you to repay?" He asked, shuting the file and turning back toward Mac.

"Keeping Harcrow alive would be my guess. As for what he wants me to do, I have no idea. He hasn't contacted me since last night. I've been down with Sid. We won't have autopsy results on Carlson for another few hours, but the report from the hospital says the bullet nicked an artery and that's ultimately what killed her. Her clothes are being processed. Sheldon, I want you on that again. That trace keeps showing up and they can't identify it."

"You got it."

"Lindsay, stay on the files. See who you can get in contact with to better identify potential targets. They may not be happy to answer the phone, but it's better than being dead."

"What about me?" Danny asked.

"You go home."

Danny didn't bother hiding his relief at that fact. Since his return from the precinct, he and Mac had ignored their confrontation back at the bar, but there was still an air of tension between them that neither wanted to address. Going home made that problem obsolete.

"Get to it." Everybody filed out, Danny with a new skip in his step. Adam was slower, sluggishly collecting the lap top and a few files into his arms. Mac called him over.

The tech stopped, looking nervous. "I'm really sorry, Mac. I didn't mean to-."

"Don't worry about it. You've been here all day. Go home."

Adam looked shocked. "But what about the phone traces and the lap top?"

"You may be the best we have at computers, but you're not the only one that can do that. You have the best mind of any of us. I prefer it still be functioning when we need it again. Leave the lap top in the lab and get out of here. You need a ride?"

"I'll get one from Danny." Adam grinned appreciatively. "Thank you, Mac."

Mac nodded once and watched the tech leave. He waited until a few minutes after Adam and Danny had entered the elevator before he stood up and cautiously made his way to his office. His team was busy on the assignments he'd given, and he didn't run into anyone on the way. He shut the door, closed the blinds and uncomfortably took a seat on his couch, which suddenly felt much harder than he remembered.

He looked around once more, despite being alone, and reached into his pocket, pulling out the folded slip of paper he'd found in the back of Danielle Vance's phone at the bar. He then retrieved his own cellphone and dialed the number scrawled at the bottom of the sheet of paper.

The phone only rang once. "Detective Taylor." A voice greeted cheerfully. "You followed my directions I see."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

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A/N: You're all allowed to hate me. Just tell me so in a review. :D It'll make sense possibly in the future at some point...eventually. Sooner than much later. Not much left to go.

Now, I just started my job this week. I had 2 incredibly early morning rounds at the hospital and will have many many more in this next month, so be patient with me and my sleep deprived brain which can't manage a decent chapter anymore.

Sidenote: This covers thing is awesome. While my brain recovers, I'm making them. I drew this one. I like it.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: You are all insanely awesome. I absolutely loved your comments and reviews. I really appreciate them.

Yes, I did hate the last chapter, but I really like this one in a horrible way. I finally clean up this mess of a plot and you get to know what's going on...to a point.

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"Adam, I really don't think he's going to care." Danny groaned, kicking up an impressive wave of water as he whipped a u-turn at the next intersection. Normally traffic would have made that impossible, and the law always made it illegal, but considering his need for sleep and the deserted state of the roads, he used his own authority to absolve himself of any wrong-doing.

"Mac's already pissed at me for falling asleep in that meeting. I don't need another thing against me right now." Adam insisted as he nervously drummed his fingers against the center consol. The sudden and swift appearance of Danny's elbow swinging toward his hand was an instantly effective deterrent. Perhaps out of a desire to keep his digits intact, Adam folded his hands together tightly in his lap.

"If Mac wanted the voice prints, he would have told you. He can also get it himself if he's that desperate." Danny spat, taking the next turn a little sharper than what would have been considered safe for the current weather. The obnoxiously chipper morning news anchor had just warned him that road closures were popping up all over the city and some neighborhoods were threatening evacuation. If he waited any longer, his apartment would be completely inaccessible except by boat or backstroke. "Mac told us to go home. That was the last order he gave me, and I intend to follow it."

"It'll take two seconds!"

Danny pulled into the parking lot with a loud screech of tires as he slid to a stop on the glossy pavement. "Is that how long you want me to wait before I drive off and leave you to sleep on an empty slab in the morgue with Sid?"

Adam stopped, his hand on the door handle. "Does Sid _do_ that?" He asked, eyes narrowed in some kind of morbid fascination.

"Five minutes, Adam." Danny warned, pulling back his sleeve to look at his watch. By the time he looked up, Adam was running across empty parking spaces toward the office building that housed the lab 35 floors up. He chuckled to himself as Adam threw out his arms for balance in an attempt to steady himself as he slid across a slick patch of cement. Soon, the tech had stumbled out of sight, leaving Danny alone, one of only four cars on this level of the parking garage.

He blew out a long breath and turned up the radio along with the heat. His windows almost instantly started to fog so he lazily punched the defroster, reclined his seat, and pulled his hood over his head. If he had to sleep in his car, he would, but there was no way he was letting Adam share in that privilege. It would be his fault if Danny didn't get home that morning, stripping him of the pleasure of sleeping in his own bed. And in that case, Danny had no qualms about leaving Adam right there at the lab.

Danny closed his eyes as the twang of a 6-string came over his speakers. Finding a country station in New York City was no small feat, but Danny had done it, if only so he could have proof that Lindsay's genre of music was crap. His intended-to-be-brief experiment was on its second month and he had no intention to change the station except when in the presence of any other living being.

Not that he would admit that to anyone.

A high-pitched and irritating chirp suddenly echoed through the deserted structure, snapping Danny from his half-asleep daze. "Who the-?" Out of curiosity as to who would be down here and an interest in knowing who to blame for interrupting his nap, Danny pulled his sleeve up over his hand and cleared away the condensation from the inside of his window. Blearily gazing through the streaked glass, he could make out someone quickly striding across the parking garage toward a black truck parked a few rows down from him. The lights on the car flashed as the chirp sounded again.

Danny sat up and attempted to clear off more of the window, which didn't help to improve his view of the dimly lit space. The sun was just rising, but the dull light that made its way through the black storm clouds couldn't quite reach this basement parking level. Danny instead rolled down his window, giving him a clearer picture of the scene in front of him. The figure, wearing an unmistakable dark grey sweatshirt and blue jeans, looked around once before climbing into the familiar truck.

"What are you doin', Mac?" Danny muttered to himself. While Mac had disregarded his need for a protective detail just hours before, the order still stood. So why was he wandering out alone again? Danny wouldn't have worried about it so much if Mac hadn't looked so nervous. He'd been acting strange all morning- well, hell, he'd been acting weird all month, but the last few days especially. The episode at the bar still ate at Danny. Something was going on. Maybe it wasn't his place to know… and heaven knows Mac would be sure to tell him that, but if Mac was breaking his own rules, it followed that Danny had a free pass on this.

It was a minute before the Avalanche roared to life. The headlights were flipped on, easily lighting half of the darkened space, and Danny reflexively ducked down into his seat as the truck rolled past and out the exit. "Where are you goin'?"

"Danny!" There was a loud _THUD_ as something slammed into the side of his car.

Danny jumped and whirled around, his breath caught in his throat until he spotted Adam, breathless and wild looking as he leaned into the driver's side window. "Adam! What the hell?" He cried.

"Did Mac just come through here?" Adam asked, gulping in air between words.

"Yeah." Danny snapped, still glaring at the tech while he waited for his heart to return to its proper place in his chest. He hesitated as Adam cursed softly, hanging his head as he pushed back from Danny's car. "Why?" Adam looked deeply conflicted, rubbing the back of his neck and pacing slightly. "Adam!"

The tech stopped. "I found something- I don't know if I was supposed to, but it was on a constant trace, so it wasn't really my fault. He never told me to take it off-."

"Oh, for the love of-," Danny threw open his car door and grabbed Adam's shoulders. "Just tell me what you found. What is Mac up to?"

"I-… I found a call log between Mac and someone else… Danny, I think it was Williams. I think Mac is going to meet him… alone."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

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The storm had definitely arrived. It made the previous night's downpour look like nothing more than a spring shower. Lamp posts and stop lights swayed dangerously in the gale-force winds. Tree branches and other debris blocked off deserted roads buried in inches of rain water that mimicked the white capped waves of the sea.

The Avalanche was handling the terrain with ease, though Mac could feel the wheel trying to slip out of his hand with every powerful gust that smothered the truck in a nearly horizontal sheet of rain. The windshield wipers were on full speed and he still struggled to see the road in front of him. He had been using the GPS to help guide him at first, but was forced to disable it after he spotted Danny trying to tail him. The battery to his phone also sat apart from the casing on his passenger seat. He had turned it off previously, but _someone_- doubtless Adam- had managed to turn the thing back on remotely.

There was a reason he had sent those two home. If their efforts had been against anyone else, he would have been proud. Under his minor annoyance, he guessed he still was. It was a valiant effort. They had the best intentions; they just didn't know any better. Not that Lindsay and Sheldon weren't competent CSIs, they were just too new at their jobs to question Mac's actions and neither was as adept at computers and tracking as Adam. Danny had no qualms about questioning Mac. It was usually what got him in trouble. For once he was right to, and Mac couldn't let him.

Luckily Danny's choice in cheap vintage cars had stopped him in his tracks. The old Charger had hit a ditch in a solid 18 inches of rapidly flowing water and never got out. That had been almost 15 minutes ago. Mac felt bad, but couldn't afford to stop and help. He'd probably offer to pay for the damages when this was over. Hell, he owed his entire team some serious vacation time.

It took Mac another half hour to reach his destination. All in all, the weather was taking the place of traffic, making the drive last about the same amount of time as it usually would. Mac pulled the truck to the side of the road and parked. The Avalanche rocked with each blast of wind, but Mac was not looking forward to leaving it. The sweatshirt Danny had given him was not made for this kind of weather. Luckily the windbreaker Mac had forcefully abandoned earlier that morning was still stuffed into the space under the dashboard. He pulled it on over the sweatshirt and steeled himself before pushing open the door.

The wind fought him, threatening to trap him inside the car, but Mac managed to slip out and let the door slam shut on its own. The rain instantly attacked him, the stinging drops pelting his exposed skin. Mac hurried around to the other side of the car and down the steep, but short embankment to a cement walkway below. To his right was the famed Central Park Carousel. To his left, the path wound under the road, disappearing under an ornate arch lined with grey stone and brick. It was known as the Playmates Arch, named for the children's district it resided in. The significance of it was not lost on Mac.

The footpath, just like the rest of the city's streets, was devoid of another living soul. Mac turned to his left, toward the archway and shelter from the storm. The pathway turned into a long, vaulted tunnel, decorated in alternating red and white stone which ran the length of the underpass. There were no lamps, which meant the only light was ambient. As he stepped under the arch, Mac had to let his eyes adjust to the darkness. He cautiously stepped in a little farther, out of the reach of the wind and rain.

The sudden quiet was disconcerting. His eyes had not yet completely adjusted, and his ears weren't picking up anything other than the sounds of the storm, but he knew he wasn't alone.

Confirming his suspicions, a dull click echoed through the tunnel. Almost simultaneously, a figure separated itself from the shadows and walked forward, gun drawn and aimed at Mac's chest. "You know the drill. Hands."

Mac reluctantly raised his arms and put his hands on his head. The features of the figure's face finally came into focus as he stepped into the dull light. Williams had a cut high on his cheek, sustained from his last meeting with Mac when the wayward bullet he'd fired had struck a nearby tree, sending splinters flying like shrapnel. Perhaps because of that encounter, Williams was extra cautious as he drew near and gave Mac a wide berth as he came around behind him before he finally moved closer. It took every ounce of self-control Mac had left not to turn and pummel the man as Williams started patting him down. His skin crawled as made contact for the first time with the serial killer he'd been chasing .

"Not taking any chances this time." Williams said in an almost chastising way as he slipped Mac's gun from the holster on his left side and tucked it into the back of his own waistband. "And on that note…"

Mac could almost hear William's fist flying towards him though his back was to the man. He might have been able to stop it had he tried, but his hands remained obediently on his head until the punch landed, slamming into his exposed right side. Mac doubled over as the pain shot through his body. He wasn't ready for the next hit that collided with his cheek and sent him to the ground a limp heap.

Mac screwed his eyes shut and forced himself to swallow the moan of agony that threatened to escape him. He wouldn't give Williams the satisfaction. The truth was, he'd been hit much harder many times before without so much as a whimper. This guy fought vulnerable women and used a gun. His physical strength was questionable, but his placement was spot on.

Mac opened his eyes and looked up to see Williams scanning both ends of the tunnel with a pleasantly surprised expression. "I'm impressed." He said with a grin as he slowly paced back and forth a safe distance away from Mac.

"I told you." Mac forced out through grit teeth as he placed his left hand onto the slick wet cement and started to push himself upright.

Mac had to hand it to him. Williams was smart. Many a criminal had struggled with determining whether or not the person they were dealing with was a cop and had backup. The fact was, if an officer was in a sting operation or any vulnerable position with backup nearby, the first sign of violence against that officer meant a full and immediate response by the backup team. True, the criminal would get arrested for assault, but that charge was probably less than whatever they were about to get busted for. In William's case, it didn't matter. He had a trump card…

"You'll forgive me if I didn't trust you." Williams chuckled, but it quickly died as a dark glint flashed in his icy blue eyes. He paused in his pacing and stepped toward Mac. "After last night, you know… Well, I was giving you the benefit of the doubt then, but you used it against me. That pissed me off."

With his good hand on the ground, Mac had no defense against the shoe that came flying toward his stomach. He could feel his ribs give way as the air was forced from his lungs. Mac collapsed back to the ground, reflexively curling around his searing abdomen. Each attempt to draw precious oxygen back into his body was met with another shockwave of pain. They crashed over each other with the intensity and frequency of the incoming tide. It was quite an apt description. He felt like he was drowning.

Through his agony, Mac vaguely realized that Williams had started talking again as he continued pacing back and forth. "Don't get me wrong. I like you. I think we have a lot in common and could really help each other here. What you've figured out is pretty remarkable, but you still just don't _get it_."

"Then why don't you… explain it to me?" Mac rasped, pausing every few words to delicately draw in another breath.

"That's just it!" Williams cried as he lowered himself to crouch in front of Mac. His cold eyes met Mac's, sending chills down his spine. "I shouldn't have to. I'm doing these people a _favor_, and no one seems to appreciate it." Williams slapped his hands onto the ground and pushed himself up to continue his pacing. Mac remained on the ground as he watched with wary eyes. "I wasn't going to, you know. I was just going to keep it to myself. After I killed Amy, I thought that was it. I thought I was done. My life was fixed and that was all that mattered." Williams brushed his hands together like he was cleaning off dirt. He halted in his tracks again and tilted his head to the side, mimicking Mac's position on the floor. "Then you showed up."

Mac felt like he'd been kicked in the chest again. He even forgot to breathe for a moment. "What are you talking about?"

Williams smiled. It was a smile fit for the models in magazines that he resembled, but somehow knowing who he was made Williams' expression just as eerie and disturbing as any other serial killer. "You know. The bar! Who would have thought that the sorry-excuse for a man sitting across from me, who had the same problem I would- and did- kill to have, would end up being the detective on my case!"

Mac's teeth ground together as he fought to keep from launching himself at the arrogantly smirking man above him. He instead started to push himself up, biting back a hiss of pain as he felt his ribs shifting with the movement.

"Eh, eh." Williams warned as he brought his gun out again. "I prefer you on the floor right there."

Glaring up at Williams through hooded eyes, Mac leaned back against the tunnel wall instead. "You're a coward." He seethed.

Williams scoffed. "Oh sure, because I won't give you the chance to come screw up _this_ face before I get to explain everything." His sickly grin only grew as Mac continued to glare at him. "Oh! Because I kill women? See, this is why I need you to sit tight and listen." He tucked the gun away again and kept one eye on Mac while he sauntered over to the opposite wall of the tunnel and leaned lazily against it, crossing his arms over his chest. "See, here's how it happened. These _women,"_ He spat the word out like he couldn't stand to have it on his tongue, "are the kind of people I see every day at work. They're the 'special princesses that can do no wrong'. Manipulating is what they are." He sneered. "These witless men get so caught up in it, they stop thinking."

"You got engaged." Mac pointed out.

"Amy was different!" Williams cried as he pushed himself off the wall and took one long stride to the center of the tunnel. "I don't deny that some are good. Relationships can be handled rationally, but one thing _always_ manages to screw it up. Amy wasn't going to be like that and then-…" He shook his head and retreated to the wall again.

"She got pregnant?"

Williams gaze locked onto Mac as he narrowed his eyes. "Don't sound so shocked. They act like it makes them better or more deserving, but it's just an excuse for control." He scoffed. "I wasn't going to let that happen to me!"

"You're insane." It was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

"_I'm _insane? _Me?_ You got the greatest gift you could hope to get and you don't even realize it. Why can't you see it?" Williams threw up his hands and started pacing again while Mac struggled to keep his composure. "I heard what you said at that bar. At first I thought you were like me. Come to find out, you just have the wrong attitude. I see it all the time. I've been wanting to help these men I see at work who are taken advantage of, but the law is skewed. There's no respect for men. You inspired me to do something about it."

"By killing women." Mac whispered, barely audible even to himself. A rushing sound had filled his ears as his blood started to boil.

"By getting men to realize that they don't have to be controlled! You could be happy if you'd just grasp that fact. Instead, I saw you and I knew I had to keep other men from becoming the same miserable drone as you. I hoped I could get you to see that through this whole thing, but you haven't. And that, more than anything, has been making me very upset. I'm trying to help you here!"

"I never asked for it." Mac growled.

Sensing that Mac was quickly losing his control and was only one comment away from strangling the life out of him, Williams retrieved his gun and held it on Mac. "Well then, I guess this next part is going to happen a little differently than I planned. I was going to let you take care of her. Now you're just going to have to stop me. Let's see whose way works better, shall we?"

The bullet exploded out of the chamber before Mac had a chance to move. It buried itself into the stone a foot away from his head, propelling chunks of rock through the air like tiny missiles. A deliberate miss, and harmless in itself, but the sound of the gunshot in a confined space slammed through his already throbbing head like a freight train. By the time he managed to open his eyes again, Williams had disappeared.

Ignoring his aching ribs, Mac used the arched wall to climb to his feet. Every breath still felt like a knife in his chest, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

_'Now you're just going to have to stop me.' _

Williams had another victim, and a head start.

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A/N: Being mean shouldn't make me so happy. Please review! I'd love to hear from you, even if you've never done it before.

There's not much more to go. I can't say for sure, but 2 or 3 chapters sounds about right.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: You all thought I died, didn't you? ;) Life just got super busy and I could not, for the life of me, get this chapter right. I re-wrote it about 9000 times, so if it still sucks, I'm sorry. I tried, I did. Blame Mac...or the show, for not giving me a baseline for Mac when he's lost control.

I'm so grateful for all your reviews and the people who checked in on me to make sure I was okay! That was way sweet of you guys. I'm sorry this is so overdue. And it's not even exciting! I feel so bad. I'm making it up to you next chapter, I promise! If you're still out there and don't hate me, enjoy this next chapter!

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"Got it!" Sheldon slapped a printout onto the conference room table, making Danny jump in surprise. "The trace is a type of algae. The reason we couldn't figure it out was because it was contaminated with a large amount of ammonia."

"We found ammonia on the second victim." Danny said, quickly recovering after being ripped from his contemplative state staring at the monitors on the walls.

Sheldon nodded excitedly. "Weak solutions of ammonia are used as household cleaners and detergents. It's also used to alter pH levels and purify water, so it screwed up the chemical composition of the sample, but this fresher trace allowed me to figure it out." He took two long strides to the computer and pulled up a map of Manhattan. "The levels of heavy metals in the sample are consistent with levels recorded here." He circled a patch of coastline around La Guardia.

"That's kind of a big radius." Danny looked at the former ME with a single furrowed eyebrow. A lead was a lead, but they needed more. Mac had ditched him over an hour ago and no one had a clue where he was going. Adam wasn't able to recover the conversation Mac had on the phone before he left, but the number that he called was traced back to a phone bought with Amy Chase's credit card. Neither number was registering a signal.

With Mac AWOL and the jammed phone lines in the city preventing them from reaching Stella, Danny was the most senior CSI in the lab and therefore in charge. He had always thought he wanted the job one day, but was quickly reconsidering. He loved high pressure situations, but this was turning out to be a little much for his first foray into heading the department. Mac had clearly gone insane. There was no other explanation for leaving him like this.

Sheldon shook his head hopelessly. "That's the best I can do. These readings are averaged over a certain area. I can't narrow it down more than that."

"And the algae?" Danny asked. "Could he pick that up anywhere, or are we talking something specific?"

"The algae itself is unremarkable." Sheldon shrugged. "It's the trace elements that are unique."

Danny blew out a breath and dragged his fingers through his hair as he turned to stare at the map. "What about the first victim? The fiancée." He suddenly said, dropping his hands from his head. "She managed a boat dealership, yeah?" He asked, spinning around to face Sheldon.

The former ME nodded quickly. "Yes, but that's on the west side."

"Boats, Hawkes." Danny said, tapping the screen frantically with his fingers. "Were any missing when you went there?"

Sheldon's forehead wrinkled for a moment before his eyes suddenly widened in recognition. "Come to think of it, yes. The assistant manager said it happened a few weeks ago. I just assumed it was unrelated, but if he's using a boat to hide out, it would explain the high levels of algae."

"Find out what it was. I'll get a list of marinas near La Guardia." Danny said excitedly, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet as he made for the door. He was so focused he had to pull a move worthy of the Matrix to avoid colliding with Lindsay. "Ho, there, Montana." He warned, grabbing the door jamb as he righted his twisted legs.

"Danny, wait." Lindsay immediately grabbed his arm, pulling him back into the room. Danny immediately noticed her wide eyes and slightly panicked expression. "I was going over the list of potential victims. I found a woman who was 7 months pregnant. I just talked to her husband. She's missing. And before you ask, she doesn't have a cell phone."

"Dammit…" Danny groaned. This is just what he needed- more problems. "Come here." He lightly wrapped his fingers around her bicep and pulled her along to the AV lab where Adam was frantically typing and cursing at his computer. "Adam, you get anything?"

With a final smack against the keyboard, Adam shook his head. "I still can't get his phone. I had it for two seconds and then it was gone."

"Where?" Danny asked, coming closer to peer over his shoulder.

"Heading south on Park at about 32nd. This was 10 minutes ago."

Danny squinted his eyes at the computer, scanning the map to determine the general direction Mac was headed in. One landmark stood out. "Forget Mac's phone." He whipped out his own cell, and while still staring at the screen, rattled off another number. "Try that."

Adam's forehead furrowed in confusion. "Okay…" He rolled his shoulders awkwardly, but entered the number anyways. It took a minute, but a signal eventually popped up on the screen and continually narrowed down until it was a single pin prick slowly drifting across the map. "It's approaching the midtown tunnel. Who is this?"

Danny grit his teeth. Apparently everyone was in on this except for him. He suddenly didn't feel bad for hiding the Yankee's sweatshirt in the Avalanche. "Dammit, Flack."

"Flack is with Mac?" Lindsay put a hand on Adam's shoulder and leaned over him to see the screen better.

At least Mac wasn't a total idiot. He must have some of his mental faculties if he had at least brought along backup. He was definitely up to something… It just irked Danny that he wasn't involved. "Let's hope so. Adam, keep following that signal and keep me updated on it. Lindsay, keep trying to get Stella on the phone."

"Where are _you_ going?" Lindsay demanded.

"After _them_." Danny said, a bite to his tone as he tossed his head toward the computer. He had barely taken two steps toward the door when the lights suddenly flickered, and then died. "Oh come on!" Danny cried into the darkness. He almost wondered if anything else could possibly go wrong, but thought it best not to jinx himself. Even if he decided he never wanted to head the lab, this certainly didn't bode well for his advancement prospects.

"What now?" Came Adam's voice, sounding lost and confused with the sudden loss of his security blanket of technology.

Danny forced himself to remain calm, keeping his twitching arms at his sides so he wouldn't accidentally punch his colleagues as he lashed out in frustration. "The backup generator should kick in soon." He assured the tech. "When that happens, I don't know what the system is going to look like, but, Adam, get it working. I need to know what marinas are near La Guardia and where the hell Mac and Flack are."

Lindsay pulled out her phone and used it to light the dark space. "I'm going with you." Danny hesitated and she immediately went on. "You can't go alone out there, and you know it."

He didn't have time to argue, and the fact was, Lindsay could definitely hold her own. She could probably kick his ass if she felt like it. "Fine, let's go… might as well grab Hawkes too. The way things are going, we're gonna need him."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Is that my sweatshirt?" Mac looked at Don like he had just insulted his grandmother. "It's an innocent question. You left me hanging out to dry with the damn nurse for an hour, I think you can answer me this."

Silence.

Mac hadn't said a word in nearly ten minutes. More than his 'screw off' expression, it was the oppressive weight Mac was carrying with him that spread through the truck that had kept Don from speaking sooner. His mind was racing with questions, but their first and only conversation since Mac pulled up at the hospital hadn't really opened the door for him to ask.

"_What did she say?"_

"_World's Fair Marina."_

"_Drive."_

At that point, Don had been tossed the keys, and had since been hydroplaning and off-roading his way in the direction of La Guardia Airport, dodging downed phone lines, pseudo rivers running 2 feet deep down residential streets, and road blocks. It had taken most of his attention to maneuver the Avalanche through the worsening weather, which accounted for part of his decision to remain silent, but now that they were on an open and relatively hazard-free expressway toward the northern part of the island, he could sacrifice some of his concentration in order to interrogate his passenger.

"I told you this morning, Danny gave it to me." Mac paused, his deadpan monotone taking on a slightly concerned edge. "Don't you remember that?"

Don smiled inwardly at his small victory in getting Mac to talk. "Well, it _was_ 3 in the morning. You're lucky I understood anything you told me." Mac continued staring at him. "My head is fine." He added, risking a sideways glance to see Mac nodding, apparently satisfied that he hadn't asked a severely concussed man with amnesia to drive him through a tropical storm. Eager to keep Mac talking, Don went on. "Why were you late? I kept trying to call, but the phone lines were completely jammed."

"Most cell towers are down." Mac explained. "Power is out in most districts."

"But why were you late?" Don pressed. "I was supposed to question Jaycie, and if that didn't yield anything, I was supposed to go with you to see Williams. That was the plan we came up with. I know I remember that much. What happened?"

Mac was quiet again, but this time he looked more guilty than angry.

"You saw him without me." The CSI continued staring straight out the windshield, head down. Don repeated it in disbelief. "You saw him without me?" He resisted the urge to punch the steering wheel in place of his passenger. "What the _hell_ were you thinking?"

"I didn't have time to wait for you. Williams wanted to meet. I couldn't risk him thinking I'd stood him up." Mac explained, his response lacking the confidence and authority that would have given it credibility.

"So you went alone?" Don squawked. "Dammit, Mac. I should have turned you in when you showed up with that note. I knew I should have…"

Don twisted his grip on the steering wheel, his cold hands burning as they slid against the leather. His knuckles were turning white as the heat rose to his face.

Mac had run into the hospital at 3am that morning, waking up a peacefully slumbering Don who had been obliviously catching up on sleep after being abandoned earlier. After finding out that Mac had been running around while he sat in a hospital, Don was on edge even before Mac started to explain what he had been up to.

Apparently Mac and Danny had followed a cell phone signal which had resulted in Mac finding a note buried in the back of the phone addressed to him. He hadn't showed it to Danny, or even Stella. He had come straight to Don. The note had instructed Mac that Williams wanted to meet with him, face-to-face, alone. Any attempt to arrest him would result in his current hostage being killed. Mac was supposed to get his team off his trail and then call, at which point Williams would give him a meeting spot.

Don had tried to convince Mac to report it. The threat of a dead hostage they didn't even know existed and who could possibly be a big fat bluff did nothing to sway Mac in his decision to keep it quiet. Instead of letting Mac run off to get killed, Don had gone along with it, but also suggested that they have a backup plan. Jaycie Carlson had just been getting out of surgery and would possibly be waking up in the next few hours. She might have information that could lead them to Williams' hideout and hopefully the hostage. They would spread the story that she had died for her own safety in case Williams decided to make sure she couldn't spill her information. Mac had thankfully agreed to this, so while he went off to fulfill Williams' instructions by getting the CSI team off his back, Don would remain behind at the hospital and work on the safer and more legal plan B.

Mac going alone to meet the psychopath hadn't been a part of either plan. It hadn't even made plan C.

"We couldn't risk getting anyone else involved, Flack." Mac insisted. "He has the hostage. If we don't get to the marina before he does, he's going to kill her. If I had brought someone else, she would already _be _dead."

"You don't know that!" Don cried. "She could be dead right now. For crying out loud, Mac! You know this! Why would you risk your life like that? You should have at least brought me. That was the plan, that's what we decided. That was the only reason I decided to go along with this."

"For what?"

"So you wouldn't get yourself killed!"

"Not to save the hostage and catch a killer?"

"Frankly, yes." Don admitted. "That'd be a great bonus to all of this, but my goal is getting you out of this alive."

Mac shifted his jaw and shook his head, the anger replacing the guilt again.

"Just talk to me, Mac. I know this thing is personal. I'm helping you because I want Williams to pay for what he did, to those girls and to you. But you're not telling me everything, and I'm actually finding it hard to trust you right now."

Mac ran a hand over his mouth. "He knows, Don."

"Knows? Knows wha-." He stopped as it dawned on him. "You mean 'knows' as in I owe you a lot of coffee?" Mac merely nodded. Don let out a long breath. "How did you find out?"

"Talked to Stu… and Williams mentioned it."

"Wait, so you knew this when you talked to me this morning?" Don asked. Mac's sheepish shrug was all the answer he needed. "And you didn't tell me. Were you even going to bring me at all, or were you just planning on meeting Williams by yourself the whole time?" He snapped.

Mac sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Look, Don, you were right. It is personal. I've been dragged far enough into this already. People are going to find out things about me that I don't want them to know. If I can keep that much more information out of the report, that's all I want."

"You think I would tell them?"

"You would have to…"

"The same way you would have to and aren't, right?"

"That's my choice, Flack. I wouldn't ask you to do that."

Don shook his head in disbelief. Partly at Mac's conscious decision to break protocol and mostly because of his determination to be the only one who did. He understood the reasoning, but it still didn't feel like Mac, regardless of the circumstances. "Mac, please don't ever put yourself at risk just to save me from paperwork. If they don't need to know, I'm not going to say a word. You should know that."

Mac sheepishly hung his head. "Yeah, well… Maybe you should talk to Stella. She would." He ended bitterly.

"She's just trying to protect you."

"So what are you doing?" Mac asked with a raised eyebrow.

Don rolled his shoulder. "We have different methods, but the same goal. Look, I heard three words from you two weeks ago when you were too drunk to see straight. I don't know the story behind it or any details whatsoever. Plus, I have a concussion. I can easily claim ignorance here. Don't worry about what's going to happen to me. I don't care."

"Thanks, Don." Mac said quietly.

"In return, can I just ask you tell me what I'm getting into right now? We need to call backup."

"They wouldn't get there in time. I told you the phones are down. Even NYPD is suffering. The frequencies are jammed and the weather is messing with the emergency communication systems."

"So much for that." Don grumbled. "You think "emergency" would account for bad weather."

"New York hasn't had a hurricane in who knows how long. With budget cuts, who knows what they were thinking."

There was silence for a few minutes as they neared their destination. As Don left the safety of the expressway to take the next exit toward the marina, his nerves got the better of him and he started talking again to take his mind off it. "What did Williams tell you?"

Mac hesitated. The thumb of his left hand raced across the tips of his fingers, back and forth, back and forth… It was the only tick Don could ever spot in the man. "He has a thing against pregnant women. Thinks they oppress men or something along those lines. It's why he killed Amy and the other women. He thought I would somehow sympathize, and when he realized I wouldn't, he took off…" Mac's voice trailed off and the speed of his fidgeting slowed for a few seconds until the pace picked up as he hurried on to another subject. "He's smart, Don. If I had brought backup with me, there's no way they could have remained covert."

"That wouldn't have anything to do with that shiner, would it?"

Mac unconsciously reached up to touch the darkening bruise on his cheek. "It might. What did Jacyie tell you?"

"Williams has been planning this part for a while now. He didn't have his hostage when they went to the park yesterday, but he was going to get her that night. She had no idea Williams knew she was trying to help you. Turning on her was a complete surprise. She was more than willing to spill his location. Are you absolutely sure we're going to the right place? How do we know he's going to even be there?"

"I can't think of another place he would hide a hostage. It's the only chance we have of finding him."

Don paused, looking out of the corner of his eye at Mac who was staring out the window. "So why did you bring me? You seemed pretty eager to do this all alone. Why waste the time to come and pick me up? Did you just need the location I got from Jaycie?"

Mac continued staring out the window. Don thought for a minute that the man hadn't heard him. "I needed someone to keep the hostage safe." He finally said.

Don thought that was an odd way to phrase it. "So my job is to get the woman to safety. What exactly is your job?"

Mac was quiet again, but when he finally spoke, his words sent ice down Don's spine. "To kill Williams."

Don had to make a quick jerk of the wheel as he momentarily forgot he was driving. Had he just heard Mac right? He had said '_get_ Williams' hadn't he? Because Mac wouldn't deliberately set out to kill a suspect… then again, Mac would also never deliberately break protocol, and he was racking up the points on that offense. "What did you say?"

Mac turned to look at him, his face a complete mask, hiding the emotions that had been playing across it. "You just worry about the hostage."

"We'll see about that, but that wasn't my question."

Mac continued to stare at Don. "What do you think I'm going to do?"

"Arrest him, because that's what you would do. I mean, I would probably kill the guy, and most people would kill the guy, but you're not most people. You're you, and you don't do things like that." Don found himself rambling and blamed it on the anxiety, concussion and the fact that Mac was scaring him.

A shadow of a smirk played across Mac's mouth. "I'm not going to kill him unless I have to, Flack… you know me better than that."

"I'd like to think so…" Don said uncertainly. If he had a choice, which he didn't, he would have stopped the car right there, turned around and sent backup in their place. Unfortunately time was running out for an innocent woman and it was apparently Don's expressed mission to save her. "Just let me have Williams, Mac. You're hurt, you're sick. I'm not going to leave you alone."

"I'm not asking you to. I'm just saying, if it comes to it…" Mac shook his head as the emotions crashed over him again, "Please, just let me have this. I need it."

Unease slowly slithered down his spine and goose bumps rose across his skin, but Don found himself nodding. "Okay."

"Thank you…" Mac turned his head to stare out the window and then froze, his eyes going wide. "Flack!"

Don turned just in time to see the blue Ford Explorer with tan trim barreling toward the Avalanche.

He didn't have time to turn the wheel.

A second later he felt the impact as the cars collided.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

A/N: If I annoyed you with all my agonizing over this chapter, I apologize. I hope it turned out alright. Just give me a few more chapters to redeem myself. I promise they all shut up in the next chapter and start fighting.

I'd love a review to know you're still out there! Thanks for reading and sticking with me through this...whatever it is.


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: OMG it's me! Yes, this isn't a joke. While I am probably the most hated person here, I am slinking back to finish what I started. I hit a rough patch and had some issues and then just wasn't motivated and had no ideas. I'm REALLY sorry about the wait. I feel horrible about it. But I am back, and with a long, action-packed chapter. It may read like crap, but at least it's here.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

"Mac! ...Mac!"

The voice sounded distant and distorted, as if traveling through water. As he experimentally shifted his head, Mac realized it was true. Water cascaded down his face as it fell through the shattered and now non-existent passenger-side window. Half of his body was leaning out of the open space, and the only thing preventing him from toppling onto the hood of the Explorer was his right arm, pinned between his seat and the door.

He hadn't lost consciousness- not really. The events ran through his head with only a fraction of a second missing at the moment the SUV collided into the Avalanche. After that he had watched everything happen from a distance, like an out of body experience- the glass shattering, being launched from his seat into the air, and finally landing across the door with a painful wrench of his shoulder. The frigid wind was quickly bringing him back to harsh reality. His unfocused eyes looked down at the twisted and conjoined metal of the two cars and slowly traveled up to look through the spider-web cracks that crisscrossed the Explorer's windshield.

The driver's seat was empty.

Mac gingerly attempted to right himself and immediately felt Don's helping hand on his shoulder, pulling him back into the car. "You alright?" He frantically asked once Mac was back in the passenger's seat.

Mac tried to free his right arm and was rewarded with an excruciating pain in his shoulder instead. "I'm stuck." He rasped.

Don leaned over the center console of the truck and swore. "At least that means it's still attached right?" He asked in an ill-attempt at humor. The slight tremor in his voice betrayed his panic. He unbuckled and kneeled on the console to get a better look. "What, no seat belt?" He said, placing his hands on the passenger door to lean over his trapped friend.

Mac realized humor was Don's way of reaffirming his grip on reality, but it wasn't appreciated at that moment. Don reached down to assess how stuck Mac was, eliciting a curse from the CSI.

"Okay, you're stuck." Don nodded, leaning back onto his knees, his shoulders brushing up against the ceiling as he craned his head to the side. Even Mac might have found it an amusing sight if not for the fact that his arm was trapped between almost six tons of mangled steel.

Mac only had the energy to throw his head back and glare. "Where's Williams?"

Don glanced up at the Explorer and shook his head. "I don't know. I didn't see him until our car was wrapping around his hood." A steady stream of scarlet trailed down the left side of his face. He wiped it away with the back of his hand as it started to drip off his chin onto the dashboard.

"We need to find him." Mac hissed in pain as he tried to free his arm again.

"I know that!" Don snapped. "Stop moving, dammit." He pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead and dropped back into his seat. "Alright, I got an idea… This is probably going to hurt."

"Just hurry." Mac said, resigning himself to whatever Don had decided. The homicide detective reached under Mac's seat and he realized what Don was about to do. "Go for it."

Don gripped the latch under the seat and lifted. He attempted to push the passenger seat back on the tracks, but it didn't budge. Mac lifted his foot and kicked it against the dashboard. The seat flew back no more than six inches, but it was just enough. Mac felt his arm being pulled from his shoulder for a brief moment until his hand came free. The fiberglass splint was cracked, and there was a deep gouge across the back, but in was in-tact.

"That splint may have just saved you a limb." Don said.

Mac didn't have time to be grateful. "Come on, let's go." Cradling his arm, he climbed out of the twisted wreckage behind Don, immediately becoming soaked in the downpour. Gusts of wind came off the nearby raging sea and immediately chilled him to the bone. He could taste the salt in the air. It stung the shallow cuts on his face and burned his eyes. The icy air would be painful enough to breathe on its own, but Mac's ribs, already tender from Williams' kick, had been aggravated even more by the crash, making every breath and movement an agonizing experience.

"Over there." He suddenly realized Don's hand was gripping his good arm, whether for Don's benefit or his, he wasn't sure. Don was pointing with his other hand across a deserted parking lot toward a white-washed adobe building with a shallow slanting roof that spanned its entire length. Some of its numerous windows were boarded up, but most were at the mercy of the storm. The marina lay just beyond the structure, but a thick mist hung over the water, a mixture of rain and blowing wind that made it impossible to see past it.

Mac and Don hadn't taken two steps toward the building when a sharp _crack!_ and an almost simultaneous _thunk!_ sent them diving for cover behind the Avalanche. Another bullet pinged against the hood of the totaled truck. Don already had his gun out as he pressed himself against the wheel well. Mac was unarmed except for a small paraframe pocket-knife. In fact, Williams was probably shooting at them with _his_ gun.

Sloshing through the water, that at only inches deep threatened to sweep his feet out from under him, Mac made his way around to the other side of the truck and peeked around the side. In a stand of trees no more than 50 feet away and just along the shoreline, he saw the flash of a muzzle and heard another faint sound of a gunshot. Spinning back around to take cover, he caught Don's attention and in a few quick hand signals, relayed Williams' position.

Don hurried to Mac's side and immediately squatted back down, pulling up his pants leg. He reached into an ankle holster, retrieved a small caliber pistol and held it out to Mac. "Left hand this time." He warned.

As if he had a choice.

Mac took the .25, and trusted that Don kept it loaded. He didn't have the limbs or time to confirm it. Using the tire of the Avalanche in place of his right hand, Mac pushed back the slide and racked a bullet into the chamber.

He couldn't hear any more shots hitting the car and risked a glance around the side of the truck. Williams was running, just a hazy figure through the downpour, but visible as he sprinted for cover behind the building, toward the docks. Don spotted him as well and was hot on Mac's heels as they both left their cover and took off across the parking lot.

Mac stopped at the corner of the building and carefully peered out around the edge of the slick wall to try and catch a glimpse of Williams. The docks were clear from what he could see- which wasn't much, but enough to realize that even attempting to traverse the old wood deck was suicide. He could see the rounded hulls of some of the smaller vessels which had capsized in the churning water. Part of the dock had even been swept away, leaving most of the marina completely inaccessible.

Don swore. "Mac, if he's got someone out there-."

"Did Jaycie say where he was keeping the hostage?" Mac asked, spinning back around to see the detective's eyes were frantically scanning the ocean.

"Said he was using a boat to get around, but he was keeping her at the marina. I don't know!"

Heart sinking, Mac carefully stepped around the corner of the building, his good hand holding out the pistol in front of him. He suddenly felt a jerk on his collar as Don pulled him back. Mac figured he had spotted Williams, but Don motioned to the ground where Mac was about to step. What looked like just another part of the flooded concrete was a stairwell, probably leading to a basement, filled to the brim with water. As wet as he already was, Mac didn't fancy taking a sudden dip, and nodded briefly in thanks.

Don took the lead, skirting alongside the boarded up windows of the building until he came upon the un-boarded and subsequently shattered window of a glass door. He gave a questioning look at Mac who nodded his agreement. They stepped through the white wooden frame of the door and onto the crackling shards of glass scattered over the deep red carpet inside. The wind still howled and rain blew in through the broken door, but the noise decreased considerably as they walked further into the dark interior. With the lights out, the sudden lull in noise was probably the only thing that saved Don from getting a bullet in his chest.

Mac heard the familiar click of a gun slide and pulled his partner back behind a thick white pillar seconds before a shot whistled past them and embedded itself into a wall. Eyes now sufficiently adjusted to the dark, Mac whirled around the pillar and fired back. Don came around the other side of the pillar, letting loose his own barrage of bullets at the dark silhouette across the room.

Williams took off, ducking low as he ran across what Mac now figured was some kind of banquet hall. Tables and chairs were stacked along the walls. As he passed, Williams pulled down one of these precarious towers, sending heavy chairs spilling across the floor behind him. Mac skirted around the mess while Don simply vaulted over it with his long legs, beating Mac to the swinging door that led to a large and empty kitchen.

It was equally dark in here. He could make out a stainless steel counter that stretched down the center of the elongated kitchen. What light made it through the cracks in the boards that covered the windows reflected off an endless array of metal pots, bowls, and- Mac nervously took note- an impressive collection of long-bladed knives.

They split up again. Mac quietly made his way along the far side of the counter while Don took the near side. A series of stoves and storage containers sporadically occupied the wall near Mac, and cast large shadows over the empty spaces. The tiny pistol wasn't doing much to alleviate any of his nerves in this environment, but Mac went on, his sharp eyes carefully studying every darkened space.

Then he saw it- the shadow shifting along the wall, making its way toward another door. The shadow reached out and took hold of the handle, and with a quick prayer that this went better than last time, Mac fired.

Williams' scream echoed around the kitchen, but even as Mac tried to take aim again, his target switched hands and rushed through the door, disappearing yet again, but leaving a trail of blood in his wake.

_What is he doing?_ Mac thought as followed yet again. Williams seemed to know where he was going. Leading them straight to the hostage seemed like a stupid thing to do. Best to lose his tail first and then go back- then again, Williams was anything but logical. He didn't care if he got caught, so long as he carried out his mission first.

Mac nearly tripped as he found that the door led to a set of stairs angling steeply down into an even darker abyss. Don quickly came up behind him and pulled out his flashlight. Stairwells were a bad place to get caught in a firefight. He experimentally sent a quick burst of light into the dark. It was one straight set of stairs that went down a single level into a cement-lined basement, and Williams was nowhere to be found.

Mac knew they didn't have time to waste, despite the danger. Williams was more interested in getting away from them than fighting back at the moment. They needed to find him before he got to the hostage.

Don was about to head down the steps when Mac stopped him. "Remember what I said. You get the hostage." He whispered.

Don didn't say anything. His creased forehead and furrowed brows revealed enough about how he felt about Mac's plan, but he obviously didn't want to waste time arguing. In case he tried, Mac was first to traverse the stairs, wincing as the old wooden steps creaked under his feet. Once at the bottom, he noticed with a twinge of annoyance this too was flooded with over a foot of water. He stepped to the side and tried to let his eyes adjust. "Allan!" Mac suddenly called, and Don shot him a surprised look. "You're trapped down here. Just come out, we'll talk." He heard something splashing through the water ahead and nudged Don with his elbow. "Flashlight," he whispered.

The basement was immediately illuminated along with a stunned Williams, only twenty feet away. He let off a wild shot and ducked behind one of the many heavy shelving units that seemed to fill the small basement.

Mac turned to Don, tilting his head to the left as he sidestepped his way to the right. Don's flashlight faintly lit the entire area, but Mac was mostly in shadow as he waded through the water parallel to him on the other side of the shelves. The faint sound of the raging wind outside was enough to cover the quiet splashes of their movements.

Mac's right arm hung pressed across his body while his left held out the tiny pistol in front of him. It felt slick in his grip and he was positive he would drop it into the abyss and become truly defenseless. His feet were becoming numb. He couldn't even feel his toes anymore. He thought he could hear his own heart pounding above the noises around him the deeper he went into the room. The light was playing tricks on his eyes. It was just bright enough to illuminate the room and make every shadow look like a sneaking human form, ready to spring from the darkness and end his life.

Mac stopped as another shadow morphed just a few feet in front of him. He was about to pass it off as another illusion when the shadow turned and the reflection from Don's flashlight glinted in William's eyes as he stared straight back at Mac.

He started to raise his gun, which Mac noted with some brief satisfaction, was not his gun hand either. That hand was bleeding and pressed against his stomach. Mac didn't have time to hope that Williams was as bas a shot left handed as he had been. Mac tried to pull the trigger on his own weapon only to find his frozen fingers unable to grip the curved piece of metal. They slipped, and finally found purchase on the slick trigger. He squeezed. Williams froze...and the gun clicked. Mac pulled again, and then again, each click of the empty pistol mocking him. He dropped his arm to his side, and his heart immediately followed suit, plummeting into his stomach.

Williams' previously panicked expression quickly morphed into a sickening grin. He paused and then started moving forward, his arm now rising in a slow arc as he brought the pistol higher with every step he took toward Mac.

In an instant, that grin reminded Mac of every corpse he'd had to examinee in the last few days- their untimely deaths brought about by this psychotic excuse for a man. Even more, he thought about the faces he couldn't see- the ones that were never allowed to see their lives fulfilled, cut off in the womb, infinitely innocent and yet this coward deemed them nothing more than tools. He thought about the husbands and families left behind. He identified with them.

He was one of them.

The gun was leveled at his head now. _His_ gun. It was close enough for Mac to recognize it, even in the dim light. Williams' grin grew. He couldn't take it anymore.

Mac ducked and lunged forward. The loud crack of a gunshot sounded next to his ear just before he collided with Williams' chest. They were flying through the air and then Mac felt the impact as Williams' back collided with the water. The frigid liquid swirled around him, swallowing him. The cold was now complete, engulfing him from the inside and out as ice flooded his lungs.

He tried to return to the surface, but was only dragged deeper into the water by hands gripping his collar. Mac struggled, but Williams held tight. Already desperate for air, ribs screaming in agony, Mac had to fight back the panic creeping over him. This was not how he was going to die, not at the hands of this coward, not now.

A brief flash of coherent thought suddenly broke through. Yes, he no longer had his gun, but he did have the almost-forgotten pocket knife he habitually tucked into the band of his jeans without even thinking.

Mac's left hand was the only thing keeping him on top of Williams as he closed it around the man's throat. His right was useless and gripped in his opponent's fist anyways. As the darkness started creeping in around him, Mac knew it was now or never.

He let go of Williams' neck and was immediately pulled deeper into the water, hitting the concrete floor as Williams rolled over on top of him and pinned him down. The pain was consuming, threatening to overwhelm Mac's remaining sanity. He involuntarily sucked in more water and knew unconsciousness was moments away.

With his last remaining ounce of strength, Mac flipped open the pocket knife now clenched in his left hand. His arm moved in what felt like slow motion through the water until it collided with something solid, and sunk in. The pressure on his chest shifted slightly, and he swore he could hear a scream, but he was still pinned. He swung his arm again, and then again, before he was finally free. The weight was gone. Williams was gone.

He wanted to find the surface, to suck in the precious air he desperately needed, but Mac only sunk deeper, the darkness almost complete. He was too tired… he didn't even feel the pain anymore. Despite the blackness, he could have sworn his eyes were suddenly opened to a bright light. There was a face just in front of it, a silhouette…familiar, looking down at him. Was it her?

Suddenly the light was gone. He was rising toward the surface now. He felt himself moving, but did nothing to help. This must be part of the whole dying experience, though bright lights and flying seemed a little cliché. Don would have gotten a kick out of that…

He broke the surface of the water, and suddenly the pain was back full force. He felt heavy again. Someone was gripping the front of his shirt, yelling at him. "Mac! Mac! Breathe, dammit!"

So much for being dead.

Mac started sputtering a second later, coughing and hacking to expel the water that had filled his lungs. He felt Don's hand firmly slapping his back, trying to help it along, while muttering something along the lines of "Get the hostage, yeah right. Jack ass."

Mac didn't have the energy for even a sarcastic smile in return. When he remembered what he had told Don about whose job was what, he didn't feel much like smiling anyways. "Did you get her?" He managed to choke out between hacking coughs.

"Yes." Don snapped, and briefly looked over his shoulder. Mac could barely make out the shivering form behind him, wrapped in Don's jacket, wet hair sticking to her flushed cheeks. She was holding the flashlight. The beam trembled in her shaking hands. Mac couldn't help but notice how close she was standing to Flack as he crouched beside Mac in the water. "I spotted her tied to a chair in a corner and couldn't leave her in case Williams was coming. I figured you'd be safe. Guess that makes me an idiot too." Don wiped some of the water from his face and his expression softened immediately. "You alright? What happened to Williams? I heard a gunshot."

Mac shook his head and scanned the basement, but couldn't see anything. He tried to swipe the curls from his forehead and noticed he was still gripping the pocket knife. It was devoid of blood, as though it had never met flesh. The water had washed it away already. Hopefully it had done the same to Williams. "I think I got him." He rasped, barely audible.

Don wasn't much comforted by Mac's vague response. "Think you can stand? We need to get out of here." He glanced up at the shaking woman and carefully chose his next words. "The water's rising pretty quickly." He left out that there was a chance Williams might not be as dead as they hoped.

Mac quickly nodded and graciously accepted Don's help as he struggled to his feet. He had to lean against one of the shelving units to catch his breath and his balance. His entire body felt frozen and unresponsive now. Don was watching him warily, but Mac nodded to the woman. They needed to get her to safety and fast. That was their priority now. He cautiously pushed away from the shelves to prove he was okay on his own, allowing Don to turn back to the woman.

"Alright, it's Annie, right? Stick by me, we're gonna get you out of here. My partner Mac here is going to be right behind you. Stick between us and we'll be just fine."

Annie glanced at Mac, and he couldn't blame her for her look of apprehension. He probably didn't look like he could guard her from anything more than the boogey-man, let alone a psychotic serial killer. He tried to flash her a reassuring smile, and it seemed to calm her enough to get her moving.

The water was up to his knees now. The poor pregnant woman in front of him had it up to her mid-thigh. Fighting through his own exhaustion, Mac reluctantly pocketed his knife and stepped up to help her along while Don kept a vigilant eye out.

Don was just starting up the steps and reached back to help Annie up when Mac heard something, a rattling, like a door being shaken. He looked up the steps to the kitchen door, but that door was already open. Don stopped halfway up the stairs and led Annie ahead of him as he turned to look down at Mac. "What are you doing? Come on."

Mac ignored him. The sound was growing more desperate. He walked away from the stairs and peered around the shelves directly to his left. It was faintly lit as Don shone his flashlight toward him again, trying to figure out what he was doing. A few more steps, and the source of the sound finally came into view. Williams, bleeding and frantic, was trying to force open a heavy looking door.

Before Mac knew what he was doing, he was walking toward Williams. He couldn't let him get away.

Williams glanced back, saw Mac, and renewed his struggle with the doorknob. A loud groaning noise suddenly accompanied the rattling of the door and Mac stopped, then took a step back, nearly falling into the water.

He remembered the stairwell outside that Don had stopped him from stepping into, full of water… and all of it behind the door that Williams was trying so desperately to open.

Mac struggled through the quickly rising water, back toward the stairs. "Go!" He cried to Don, who had come down to the bottom steps again.

Don looked confused, and brought up his gun, but Mac shook his head. "No! Go!" He threw his hand up and Don finally got it. He climbed a few steps and stopped, waiting for Mac, which only frustrated him more.

The groaning became louder. Mac finally reached the steps. Don pulled him up and pushed him ahead of him just as a loud _crack!_ echoed through the basement, immediately followed by a thundering roar, as Williams finally succeeded.

A wall of water crashed through the basement, immediately tearing down the shelves and pushing them along, heading straight for the stairs.

Don and Mac scrambled as the wooden steps trembled under their feet, shaking so violently they almost tore themselves apart. They were halfway up when a heavy metal shelf rammed into the stairs just below Don's feet, disintegrating them. He slipped, and Mac managed to grab his arm just before Don fell into the raging mess below them. Don tried to climb up, but the steps under him crumbled, leaving Mac as the only one supporting his weight.

Mac could feel the wood under him start to splinter as well and knew there were only moments before he and Don would fall into the violently churning water, where they would either drown or get crushed under the swirling debris.

Don's hand was starting to slip in his slick grip. Mac struggled to hold on, reached back with his right arm to grab a hold of anything to help them…and felt another hand grab his.

"I gotcha!" Danny cried.

Mac felt a wave of relief wash over him as Danny carefully inched out beside him and grabbed a hold of Don's other arm and helped to haul him up. They managed to drag themselves back onto solid ground onto the kitchen floor as the rest of the stairs gave way under the weight of another metal shelf.

Danny slammed the door shut, and Mac found himself in a sudden muted silence. He was lying on his back on the floor, too exhausted to move. He didn't feel any pain, though he was sure he should have.

"I see you found your sweatshirt." Danny suddenly said, awkwardly breaking the blissful quiet.

"And now you owe me a new one." Don replied with a huff, too tired to muster a laugh.

"There's no way I'm buying Yankees merchandise."

"Then you better think twice before loaning Mac my stuff." There was a pause. "Mac? You alright?"

Mac tried to nod, but wasn't sure if it worked. The blackness was closing in again, but this time it wasn't accompanied by suffocating panic. He took a long slow breath and welcomed it as finally took him over.

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><p>AN: Feedback is much appreciated, but words in place of rotten tomatoes is even better. ;) If you'll all excuse me, Mac has gotten himself stuck inside a window, and I need to save him. That's my new kitten, not the guy. Heck, if it were actually Mac, I'd just keep him there, like a really odd poster.

One more chapter I think, and then guess what? I have a whole new story! I promise it'll be written out BEFORE I post it, so this ridiculousness never happens again.


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